


But Each Day's Another Fight

by XxWill_I_Ever_Find_A_NamexX



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety, Canon-Typical Violence, DEH book references, Depression, Evan Hansen Has Anxiety, Explicit Language, Gay Connor Murphy (Dear Evan Hansen), Gen, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Jared Kleinman Being an Asshole, Larry Murphy (Dear Evan Hansen) Being an Asshole, M/M, Miguel is Connors ex, Recreational Drug Use, Self-Harm, Sibling Bonding, Zoe Murphy Tries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:01:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22795198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XxWill_I_Ever_Find_A_NamexX/pseuds/XxWill_I_Ever_Find_A_NamexX
Summary: Connor survived his attempt at the beginning of 12th grade. Now the year is almost over but things aren't any better. He's trying. He's trying so hard and no one seems to see it.But then there's Zoe...And then there's Evan...And maybe he isn't as alone as he once was. Maybe there is someone there to see him trying.~~~(Ch 1 excerpt)Why didn't they see that he was trying? It's not like he wanted to be a fucking failure. That was just him and you'd think they would have gotten the memo by now, but nope. Another day another disappointment.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	1. Broken but Trying

**Author's Note:**

> This doesn't follow cannon, but it sticks closely to basic personalities and such.  
> No Evan in this chapter because I'm nervous to write him.  
> Initially written for Connor Murphy week on Tumblr in 2019.  
> First fanfic ever, so lets hope I don't disappoint. Really don't know where it's going but it's kinda therapeutic.

The chill of the March wind bit into his skin through his thin jacket, sending a shiver down his spine. He was cold, but he didn't slow his walking. Because what was new about being cold? He was always cold. Even on the hottest day, he was cold. The kind of cold you couldn't shake, the kind that rested in your bones and festered there. 

'Wasn't that just fucking melodramatic.' He was fucking pathetic, and everyone knew it. That's why he was walking alone down a backstreet at 3am in the middle of March. 

No one was looking for him, not a single buzz of his phone where it sat, stagnant in his back pocket, nothing. His family was likely still asleep, not having noticed him slip out the window. Still, he didn't expect a rescue party even if they did eventually realize he was missing. They'd probably just be glad to be rid of him for a while. 

With a small huff he pulled a half empty pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket, followed by a lighter. As the first pull of smoke filled his lungs, he felt his shoulders relax infinitesimally; it wasn't enough, but it would have to do for now. As the cigarette continued to shrink, he felt his body warming slightly, a moments’ reprieve from the harsh air. He had no particular destination, or so he told himself, just needed to get away from the bullshit for a while. 

When he found himself on the old bridge, he wasn't particularly surprised. It was a place he had been many times as a child, back when his dad still had hope for him being the perfect little carbon copy son he always wanted. His dad would take him fishing there every Sunday. Except every Sunday he would inevitably abandon the rod and instead opt to throw pebbles at his sister as she tried to play with the fish in the stream. And that's how he would find himself pouting in his bed at the end of each week, while his family ate super downstairs without him, the sound of his mother's soft voice consoling his sister drifting up to him. 

He was broken from his reverie by a stinging in his hand. His smoke was now burnt down to the filter, heat lapping at his fingertips. He swore, tossing the glowing butt to the ground and stomping it out with the toe of his boot. He hunched his shoulders against the sharp breeze that rippled across the water, hand reaching back into his pocket, fumbling with the pack of cigarettes. His too cold fingers shook as he brought the second cigarette up to his lips, thumb slipping on the lighter, taking three tries for it to light. He took a long pull of smoke and tried to convince himself that the cold was really all that was behind his quaking hands. He took another drag, and again, the smoke doing nothing to calm him only thickening the fog in his head. 

He took one more frustrated lung-full before cursing, flinging the glowing nub into the black water below. Hands coming up to tangle in his unruly hair, he let out a guttural noise that ripped its way out of his chest. He sucked in a ragged breath, the chill of the air a shock to his lungs. He tried his best to ignore the prickling moisture that had started up behind his eyes, face falling into a hard mask as he combed through his pockets for something stronger. Numb fingers finally closed around the small rectangular tin, his hand re-emerging from his pocket. With a sigh he slid into the ground, the chill of frozen metal seeping into the backs of his legs as he let them hang over the edge. For the third time that night he fished his lighter out from its place in his too thin jacket. Cracking the lid of the tin, he pulled out a hastily rolled joint that he had put together during second period when he was meant to be in Calc. He brought the filter to his lips, flicking the flame across the tip until it caught. His eyes slid closed as the familiar prickle filled his chest. Taking another lung-full, he settled back, laying his thin frame across the cold metal. Relishing in the tingling that was seeping into his fingertips. He smoked until the joint became merely a stump, snuffing it out beside him. His limbs felt heavy, like the darkness below him was pulling at them, wanting him to come down and join it. Some sick part of his brain sort of liked the sound of that. He let himself sink into the feeling, muscles going lax. The frigid air forgotten in the momentary assisted calm. 

... 

By the time the sun was starting to peek up over the horizon, he was crawling back through his bedroom window and shucking the evidence of his excursion; tossing it into a pile in the corner. He fell back onto his bed, finding refuge in the thick covers and locked door (a "privilege" he had only recently regained after months of not having even a handle to give the illusion of privacy). He picked at his fingers where they had become swollen from prolonged exposure to the March air, but aside from a little puffiness, he was no worse for wear. Breathing deeply, he settled back onto the pillow, hoping he could catch an hour or so rest before there was banging at his door and someone dragging him to that hellhole of a school. 

But of course, the Gods were elsewhere occupied and barley fifty minutes later he was wrenched awake by the pounding of Zoe's fist against his already abused door. Her voice pierced the air, claiming dibs on the bathroom, before scurrying away. Only once he heard her soft footfalls disappear down the hall did he emerge from under the rumpled sheets, groaning as his exhausted body protested every movement. As he found his feet, he became aware of the pressure in his bladder. Knowing Zoe wouldn't be out of the bathroom any time soon, he trudged his way over to the window and pried it open. The cool morning breeze greeted him, making him shiver. Pulling aside his boxers he smirked at the thought that his piss might hit Larry's precious car in the driveway bellow. With any luck he had left the sunroof open. That basted deserved far worse, but one has to take what opportunities he can get. 

When he finished, he slid the window shut and pulled on yesterday's jeans, loose around the knees from wear. After grabbing some old band shirt and his black hoodie, he raked his hands through his matted hair for a few seconds before giving up and yanking it into a knot on the top of his head. He pulled the tin and his lighter from last night's jacket and shoved them into his pocket before shouldering his bag and trudging out of his room. Hesitating at the top of the stairs, he held his breath while he listened to his mom and Larry's voices drifting up from the dining room. Sighing, he started towards the kitchen, hoping to grab some coffee and bypass the lovely family chitchat. Instinctually his fingers found the tin in his pocket; he was going to have to roll another joint or two before school, because there was no way he was going to make it through the day sober. Unfortunately, the fates were once again against him. He dropped his bag quietly at the bottom of the stairs, turning to the kitchen, before stopping in his tracks as he came face to face with his mother holding a pitcher of orange juice. 

"Oh! Connor, honey, come eat breakfast." 

Her voice was cheerful, but he could still hear the tentativeness. It stung but he knew he deserved it. She was right to be afraid of him; hell, he was afraid of him too. He knew he should probably just push past her and retreat to his room to avoid the inevitable blowout that always came when he and Larry were in the same vicinity, but somehow, he couldn't bring himself to. Something in him didn't want to crush that last spark of hope in her eyes that she had been holding onto for so long. Gritting his teeth, he followed a few steps behind as his mother walked to the dining room. 

"Larry, why don't you put away the laptop for a few minutes and have breakfast with your family. The emails can wait." "These emails are important Cynthia. "Larry's tone was bitter but he slid the laptop closed and bushed his glasses onto the top of his head. Connor rather wished his mom had just let Larry busy himself with his emails because now he could feel eyes boring into him from across the table. From under his lashes he saw Larry's eyes flick to his hair. Larry scowled and muttered disapprovingly under his breath. Connor felt a tight smirk pull at his lips, anger bubbling in his throat. The standoff was interrupted by Zoe bounding down the stairs, book bag in hand. Dropping her things by Connor's she plopped down in the empty seat and started pouring herself a glass of juice. The presence of his youngest child didn't seem to deter Larry long however and within a couple seconds his eyes were back to picking apart his son. Connor's skin crawled under his gaze. Fiddling with his sleeves, Connor slipped his thumbs in and out of the holes he had cut into the cuffs. "Why do you insist on that hair. It looks like a rat has built a nest on your head. We should have shaved it over the summer when we had the chance." 

"Larry!" Cynthia chided her husband from her place at the table. 

"What, Cynthia? Look at him! He looks homeless. He should have more respect for himself; for this family!" 

Connor gritted is teeth as he felt something snap inside him. Fuck. He felt it bubble over and there was no going back. He pushed his chair back from the table and stood at his full height. 

"HA! Respect! That's pretty fuckin' funny there Larry considering you've never once shown an ounce of respect towards me or what I want, or feel, or any of that bullshit! So, don't you DARE talk to ME about FUCKING RESPECT!" 

Connor flung the apple he had been rolling in his hands, not watching as it smashed against the white wall. 

"Fuck this." 

Connor huffed out a ragged breath as he pushed his way out of the room and down the hall, he yanked his bag onto his shoulder, tugging on his boots before slamming the front door behind him. 

He barely made it a few steps before he collapsed onto the curb, anger draining and being replaced with a bone deep exhaustion. He tugged a cigarette out and lit it as he rolled back, resting his head on the sidewalk. There was no use in moving, he had to wait for Zoe anyway; Larry had taken his keys back in June and he still wasn't any closer to getting them back. So instead he just took another drag and tried to clear his head enough to get through the day. He wasn't much closer to success when Zoe marched out the door with a sour look of her face. She strode over to where Connor was laying and yanked his messenger bag from the ground beside him, before turning on her heal towards the car. Connor took that as a cue to snuff out his cigarette and peel himself off the cement before she left without him. As he fell into the seat and shut the door, he could already feel the thumping ache in the back of his skull beginning. Shutting his eyes, he let his head fall back against the window and prayed to whatever deity that Zoe was pissed off enough to maintain the silence until they made it to school. 

"Why do you have to be like that with him? He's just trying to help." 

Connor gritted his teeth, not lifting his head at Zoe's words. 

"Oh yeah, because treating me like some shit on the bottom of his shoe is help." 

"Well you haven't exactly made it easy. You're not all peaches and cream to be around either, Connor." 

At this Connor's lips curled and he glared daggers at his sister who stared forward through the windshield. 

"Fuck you, Zoe." 

"Fuck you." 

Connor dropped his eyes again. This wasn't a new dialogue, but it still made his hands shake and his jaw clench. Why didn't they see that he was trying? It's not like he wanted to be a fucking failure. That was just him and you'd think they would have gotten the memo by now, but nope. Another day another disappointment. 

By the time the cracked parking lot came into view the dull ache had become a splitting migraine and Connor's stomach churned against the sensation. Once Zoe had put the car into park Connor was out the door, grabbing his bag from the back, and across the lot in .25 seconds. He ducked back behind the edge of the school and settled into the small rock alcove that housed the mouth of a runoff pipe for the town's main river. Although it wasn't far from the building few people came back here because of the mud and the uneven ground. Connor, however, found it in his first year and now took refuge here most days. He pulled the tin from his back pocket and a small bottle from his bag. Pouring out about a half a dozen pills, he downed them dry and shoved the little bottle back in its place. Opening the tin, he set to rolling a joint before first bell. Normally he wouldn't bother with homeroom, or class for that matter, but he'd already skipped the majority of yesterday and although he knew it wouldn't do much good, he didn't want to add any more fuel to Larry's fire today. So instead he packed a couple joints and shoved the tin back into his bag. Lighting a cigarette, he made his way back to the front of the school as the first bell rang. After a few long pulls, he snuffed out the glowing butt and shouldered the doors open, shoving through the dwindling stream of students. He tucked his head, missing the usual curtain of hair that would normally cover is face with the motion. As it was, only a small strand that had come loose hung in his eyes. An unsettling prickling had started up on the back of his neck as he felt eyes trailing him as he moved. Of course, this wasn't new, he was the school's resident psycho after all. But there was something about having his hair tied back that gave him an uneasy feeling of vulnerability, and that was something Connor didn't take too kindly to. Pushing out a noise of frustration, Connor's finger came up to tangle in his hair. With a sharp tug he ripped out the elastic and sent his hair sprawling out across his shoulders. He raked his hands through it, busying them as he tried to settle the odd discomfort that had risen in his gut. He knows he looked like shit, but it didn't really matter, it's not like he had anyone to impress. 

By this point he was turning the corner to his homeroom where the teacher was reading over some announcement about a committee-or-other doing another fundraiser. He didn't bother to slow as he walked through the door, even as the teacher shot him a dirty look for the interruption. Instead he just kept pace until he had made his way to the back, dropping unceremoniously into the seat in the far corner. He dropped his head into his arms, willing with all his might for the Advil to kick in faster. But this universe has no mercy and a short ten minutes later the piercing shriek of the bell cut through his still aching skull, forcing him out of his seat and into the swarming hallways. He kept his head down as he weaved through the chattering crowd, ducking his shoulders and shoving his hands deep into his pockets. He climbed the stairs and dibbed into room 208. Slouching down into a seat, Connor pulled his worn notebook from his bag and dug out a pencil as Mr. Harrison began addressing the class. 

... 

He rolled the pad of his thumb across the sharp lead of his pencil, concentrating on the small biting pressure against his skin to distract him from the eyes that raked across his back. It's not that people were so much watching 'him', more watching as one would watch a dangerous animal, looking for fast movements or signs of imminent attack. It was the kind of ever present watching that set his teeth on edge and started the boiling pot in his throat. 'If they would just stop staring at me maybe I wouldn't blow up at them. Idiots ever think of that, huh?' Connor presses down harder on the straining lead, furrowing his brows as he tried to boar a hole in his desk with his eyes. His fingers tightened on the pencil until his knuckles had gone a sickly white. Letting out frustrated huff, Connor slammed his hands down with a loud thud. In a flash he was on his feet, cutting off whatever the teacher had been rambling about. 

"Would you stop FUCKING STARING!? What!? Is this what you're waiting for!? SOME BIG FUCKING BLOWOUT FROM THE CRAZY KID!? WELL FUCKING CONGRATS!" 

It was only once he had spun to grab is bag and storm out of the now silent classroom that he became aware of the stinging in his hand. 

By the time he got to the bathroom the blood had begun to drip. Connor surveyed the empty stalls before leaning against the sink and flipping on the tap. The lead of his pencil had buried itself in the pad of his thumb and Connor gritted is teeth as he tried to get hold of what was still sticking out. After a few failed attempts it became clear that he wasn't going to get a grip on it anytime soon. Sighing he dropped his other hand, bringing the bleeding thumb to his mouth. Connor bit the end of the lead, gripping the sink with his good hand as he pulled. Connor spit the broken lead into the basin, repeating the action twice more to get the blood out of his mouth. Swishing some water in his mouth he ran his thumb under the tap, the bowl of the sink going pink. After a few minutes the blood had ebbed. Flipping off the tap, Connor fished a small zipper pouch out of his messenger bag and pulled out a Band-Aid. Wrapping his throbbing thumb, he stalked out of the bathroom and toward the back doors. 

Hands still shaking with adrenaline he shoved open the doors and pulled the tin from the pocket of his bag. At this point he didn't give a shit if there was a TA, or hall monitor, or whatever the fuck milling about, he just needed to clear his head. Gripping his lighter in his left hand he lit the joint, pulling in a lung full of smoke as he crossed the school grounds to the culvert. Jumping the small stream of muddy water that leaked out the mouth, Connor climbed onto the far bank and sat back on a flat stone. He dropped his elbows to his knees, shoulders collapsing and head falling forward, a bone-weary sigh spilling from his lips. He wanted nothing more than just to disappear; to sleep and get stoned, and just not have to think about anything, about any of this bullshit. He took another drag off the joint, letting his eyes fall closed as his muscles tried to relax. 

Once he was down to the filter Connor flicked the spent joint into the stream and rolled back so he was splayed out across the rocks. Before he knew he had fallen asleep, Connor was being jarred awake by the shrill pealing of the bell. Startling, Connor jolted upright, the movement making his head spin. 

"Fuck…" 

He slowed his breathing, letting his head fall to his knees. 'Fuck this fucking day. Fuck this fucking school.' As Connor sat, ignoring the fact that second period was about to start, his mind began to wander. He knew he couldn't just ditch the whole day no matter how much he wanted to. Larry would fucking lay into him, and Cynthia would panic if he didn't come home with Zoe, so that meant avoiding him was out of the question. Connor let out his breath in a huff, pulling a cigarette from his dwindling pack. Laying back, he draped his arm over his eyes and tried to savor the calm while it lasted. 

... 

In what seemed like only seconds the bell signaling the end of class was echoing through the school yard. Connor peeled open his eyes, groaning as the light assaulted them. Packing up his shit he made his way back to the doors. Connor slipped into the swarm of students switching out textbooks and grabbing sweaters from lockers. He ducked his head as he felt wary eyes trailing him, whispers swirling through the crowd. He hated this part, Connor just wanted to get to class and hide out in a corner and ignore the world, was that too much to ask? As he slipped through the English hallway an obnoxiously loud voice stopped him. 

"Hey, Connor! Heard you went full psycho in Harrison's class. What's the plan for tomorrow, Virginia Tech re-enactment?" 

Connor bristled, gritting his teeth as he whipped around to face the grinning imbecile. 

"Blow me, Kleinman." Connor mustered every ounce of hatred into the words, but Jared's stupid shit eating grin didn't falter. 

"Oh, Connor, I never knew you felt that way about me!" 

Connor spun on his heel spitting out a bitter "Fuck you." as he turned away. 

"I'm flattered, really! But I don't swing that way!" The words floated down the hall to Connor and he dug his nail into his injured thumb, willing himself not to turn around and deck Kleinman in his stupid fucking face. He didn't need to get into more shit today. The aching in his head was back with a vengeance (if it had ever really left) and all he wanted was to get through this shithole of a day so he could go home, lock himself in his room, and get stoned out of his mind. 

When he got to his History class, he took the rare opportunity of his early arrival to slip into the back corner and claim a spot where he wouldn't be bothered. Once the other students piled in, a buzz of chatter and murmuring filled the room. Connor kept his head down, nail still biting into the re-opened cut in his thumb as he tried to block out the world. The class was dull, and the teacher put some documentary on halfway through, so zoning out wasn't currently that difficult of a task. 

… 

Connor groaned as the lunch bell rang. He had become quite content with ignoring the world, isolated in his dark corner. Lunch meant he had to brave the swarm again and pray to the heavens he didn't bump into Zoe, or Kleinman for that matter. The classroom had cleared out by the time Connor had pushed his way to his feet and gathered up his bag. He trudged out into the hall, intent on making it to the library without incident. The culvert had been ruled out as it had started raining halfway through last period and all Connor had on was a threadbare sweater. 

“Connor!” 

Connor grimaced as Zoe’s voice echoed down the hall. He reached around his neck and tugged his headphones on, hoping the action would deter his sister. But of course, he should have known better and within a couple of seconds she rounded on him, long brown hair flipping out behind her as she blocked his path. Connor’s pace faltered and he sidestepped to avoid running into her. He made to step around her, but she blocked him again, folding her arms and setting her face in a mask of disapproval that reminded him all too much of their father. Sighing Connor lowered his headphones, levelling Zoe with a glare. 

“What?” 

“Why did I hear from Alana that you stormed out of English this morning and that you didn’t show for second period?” 

“Hmm, maybe because she’s a chronic gossip who can’t mind her own damn business.” The ice in Connor’s voice matched his sister’s 

“I’m serious Connor, you can’t keep doing this shit. Mom and dad are this fucking close to shipping you off again.” 

“Yeah, like that fucking clinic did so much good the first time.” He gritted his teeth, eyes flicking around the still full hall. “You know what fuck off, Zoe. It’s not like you give a shit what happens to me, anyway, so just leave me the hell alone.” 

He shoved past her, ducking his head again as he stalked off. 

“Connor!” Zoe Called after him. 

“What, Zoe!?” Connor’s voice was loud enough to make people turn to stare, as he rounded on his sister. “What!? What the fuck do you want!? Did Alana and her big mouth happen to mention how English wasn’t even my fucking fault!? How those fucking assholes wouldn’t stop staring at me like I was some kind of fucking freak!? Huh? Every think that maybe I don’t mean to be a fuck-up!? That maybe it just fucking happens!? That maybe all these other asshats might have some fucking blame to take too!? That ever cross your little rose-tinted mind!? DID IT!?” 

The crowd of people had gone silent around them and as Connor tried to steady his breathing, he saw the tear tracks glistening on Zoe’s face. His breath hitched, chest pulling tight. ‘fuck…’ Connor spun, people moving out of his path as he barreled down the hall. Reaching the Tech wing, he swung open the disabled access bathroom, locking the heavy door behind him. “Fuck…” 

Connor felt his eyes sting and he slid down the door, curling in on himself. “FUCK!” His voice cracked, echoing off the tiled walls. His shoulders shook against the tears that were now rolling down his face. 

He fucking hated this. He hated hurting her, hurting everyone. He was a fucking mess, and everyone knew it. He contaminated everything within his reach. He didn’t hate Zoe and he didn’t want to keep doing shit like this to her, but every fucking time ended up with the same result. No wonder people looked at him like he was a monster. 

He lashed out, fist colliding with the tiled wall beside him. His hand burned and he was sure he broke a knuckle, but he couldn’t stop as he rammed his hand into the wall again coming away bloody. He was pretty sure he was screaming, but he couldn’t focus on the sound. Tears still tracked their way down his cheeks, falling onto the linoleum, Connor curled back in on himself he clawed at his arms trying to focus on the stinging instead of aching in his chest. 

… 

Once he managed to get his breathing under control Connor opened his eyes, blinking to clear away the moister. His knuckles were cracked and swollen, and his nails had blood caked under them from where he had scratched up his arms and pulled at old scabs. Connor hauled himself up, leaning into the sink as he flipped the tap. He rinsed the blood off his hands and arms and then scrubbed at his face in a futile attempt to make it look less puffy. He looked like a fucking mess, but there was no fixing that. He gingerly flexed his hand, testing the motion. Hot pain sprang up across his knuckles and he grimaced. He was going to have to wrap it when he got home. He tugged his sleeves down wincing as the fabric rubbed raw skin. He took one last glance at himself before he shouldered his bag and unlocked the door. Fuck if he didn’t need a smoke. 

His hand was useless now, so it wasn’t like he was going to get any notes taken in class even if he paid attention, so what was the point. Instead of veering right, towards the science labs, Connor staid on course, heading towards the door by the front stairs. Tugging his hood over his head, Connor shouldered open the door and braced himself against the blowing rain. It wasn’t particularly cold, but the wind mixed with his sodden sweater made Connor shiver. He stalked out to the parking lot, praying Zoe had forgotten to check if he had locked the passenger side door. For once luck was on his side and the handle gave way under his fingers, door swinging open. Connor chucked his bag inside, lowering himself onto the seat and leaving the door ajar. He dug in his bag and pulled out the last of the joints he rolled that morning, retrieving his lighter as well. Propping open the door with his foot Connor lit up, sucking in a lung-full of smoke. 

As the joint began to shrink, Connor retrieved his phone from his bag. Tugging his headphones on, he scrolled though his music, finally giving up and just hitting shuffle. He leaned the seat back, letting his shoulders un-tense as he rested against the worn fabric. 

He flicked the spent joint out the door and pulled it closed, wincing as the action pulled on his injured knuckles. He didn’t want to have to deal with Zoe when classes finally ended, but he wasn’t exactly in the best shape to walk home either. Groaning, he let his head fall back against the headrest. 

… 

The weed slowly working through his system helped numb the throbbing in his hand until it became mostly just an annoying background sensation and, as if knowing its cue, the rain began to pitter out until it was just a mildly inconvenient drizzle. Connor knew that if he walked home even in this he would be soaked through, but judging by his luck, it was also the best he was likely to get. With a groan he peeled himself from the seat, grabbing his bag with his good hand and swinging the door open. He flipped his hood back up over his headphones and started towards the road. 

By the time he made it to the manicured lawns and crisp white paint of the cul-de-sac his clothes were plastered to his thin frame and his feet sloshed in his boots. Connor grimaced as he saw Zoe’s car in the driveway. Evidently, he hadn’t made it home before school let out. Pushing the wet mattes of hair from his face he took a deep breath, readying himself for the yelling that he knew would follow his arrival. 

“Connor?” 

His name hit his ears as soon as he broke the threshold. He sighed and toed off his sopping shoes. His socks left water marks as he hung his bag on the stair rail. Brushing his hair back he made his way to the living room where he knew his family would be waiting. 

When he entered the doorway three sets of eyes turned to meet him, Zoe’s dropping quickly to the floor. 

“Connor, Zoe said you never met her by the car after school, where were you?” Larry’s tone was measured, testing. 

“I didn’t feel like getting a ride, so I walked. It’s not a big deal.” 

“Yes, it is a big deal, you caused a scene at school and then you disappeared. How are we supposed to know you’re not out doing something reckless? How are we supposed to trust that you are safe if you can’t even control yourself for eight hours, Connor?” Larry hadn’t raised his voice, but his control seemed to be strained. 

“I’m not some sort of hoodlum. I didn’t start anything; they were goading me! All I did was tell them to stop! What do you want from me!?” 

“We want you to go to your classes and at least try to act like a civilized person! Why is that so difficult for you!?” 

Connor gritted his teeth, running his hands through his hair and breathing heavily through his nose. 

“Oh! Connor, honey, what happened to your hand?” Cynthia’s worried voice cut through the tense standoff, drawing all eyes to Connor’s hands where they were still locked in his hair. His right hand swollen, scabbed, and bruising quickly. 

“It’s nothing.” Connor breathed in a dismissively. 

“Did you get into a fight while you were out? Did you hurt someone!?” 

That was it, Connor was done. “No, Larry, I didn’t fucking hurt someone! Is that what you think of me!? That I’m some fucking monster that likes to beat on passers-by!? Really!?” Connor met Larry’s steely gaze, disbelief shinning in his eyes. “You know what? Whatever. Fuck this.” With that Connor stormed out of the room grabbing his bag and scaling the stairs, slamming his bedroom door behind him. 

Connor rammed his aching fist into the wall, letting out a frustrated cry. After a few minutes Connor had gotten his breathing under control and started to shed his soaked clothes, opting for some baggy sweats and a faded tee-shirt. He shuffled over to his bed, pulling his makeshift first-aid kit out of the bedside table. He had just located the ace bandage and peroxide when he heard a soft creek. Fuck, he hadn’t locked his door. When he looked up, he met eyes with the one person he had leased expected. 

“Zoe…” 

“Oh my god, Connor…” Zoe looked panicked. Connor looked down at himself, bandages strewn around, knuckles swollen and mutilated, arms shredded. Yeah, he figured he wasn’t a pretty sight. 

Zoe rushed forward, coming to sit on the bed, and reached out a hand but Connor pulled back. 

“It’s nothing. Besides, why do you care? I was an ass.” 

“No, Connor. That’s why I’m here.” She met his gaze. “You’re right. I can’t just assume you’re always the bad guy. I mean you’re my brother, we are contractually obligated to fight, but that’s not fair on you.” 

Connor was at a loss for words. He stared down at his little sister with wide eyes, trying to ignore the gathering moisture. Instead of speaking he just held out his busted hand, allowing Zoe to wrap it. 

“Connor, you can’t keep doing this to yourself.” Her voice sounded watery; her eyes still focused on her task. 

When Connor didn’t respond after a minute or so she looked up. Connor was looking out the window, trying to hide his eyes, but she could see the tear tracks on is cheeks. 

“I just feel stuck…” he breathed out, after a long moment. 

Zoe nodded, her heart clenching. She wanted to fix it, to make things good, but she didn’t know how. So instead she finished wrapping his hand, clipping the bandage in place and setting the hand back in his lap. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Me too.” 

And then she was out the door and Connor was alone again.


	2. Thing Don't Stay In Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The peace can never last. He knew that. It was stupid to even dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING!  
> This chapter contains descriptions of self-harm. Please don't read if this is going to trigger you or interfere with your mental well being. it's not worth it. 
> 
> Chapter 2!  
> Not quite as long as the other one but it took almost a year for me to get off my ass and write it! Hopefully I will be able to keep in the swing of things!

The next couple of days blurred together in an ibuprofen and weed induced haze, but Connor managed to avoid any major familial blowouts, so that was more progress than had been made in a while. Not to mention the smile Zoe had flashed him this morning in the car. That hadn’t happened in…fuck, he couldn’t remember how long. 

Presently he found himself in the park, leaning against the rock wall that divided the higher ground from the well-groomed walking path. Connor took a slow pull off his cigarette and leaned back onto the tree that had slowly pushed its roots over the stacked stones. Bass thumped heavily in his ears, his breathing following lazily along. 

Connor pressed the smoking nub into the dirt and shoved his headphones back around his neck. Pulling his hood over his knotted hair, he shouldered his bag and trudged back towards the open mouth of the path. Just as he was fishing another smoke from his pocket Connor collided with something large and dense. The impact sent him shuffling to regain balance as a stream of profanity flooded from his mouth. Connor was just about to round on whatever idiot had stopped in the middle of the path, when a heavy hand clamped down on his shoulder. 

“Hey there Murphy, how’s the freak today?” 

Connor gritted his teeth and surveyed his addresser with a cold stare. Looking back at him were the bulging dumb eyes of one of the many indistinct ‘jocks’ that polluted school halls. Behind that one was another blockhead carbon copy; it was like seeing double. 

Connor traced his eyes back and forth between the dim stares. 

“What do you want?” His words were sharp through his clenched jaw. 

The one who had stepped in his way squinted at him, heavy brow casting his eyes in shadow. “A little birdy told us you ripped off a buddy of ours.” 

Connor blanched. “What?” 

The Jock’s mouth pulled up at the corner as his eyes surveying Connor. “Shortchanged him on some goods.” 

It took a moment for it to come together in Connor’s head, but when it clicked his lips curled back over his teeth and he levelled the two with an icy glare. 

“I don’t know what sort of shit has got twisted around in your empty fucking skulls, but I don’t even fucking sell, so leave me the hell alone.” Annoyance was bubbling hot in his chest. What fucking right did these assholes have to fuck around in his life? Could he not just have a fucking moment of peace? He didn’t even fucking do anything. 

There was a moment of heavy silence before something changed in his accuser’s expression; face darkening. “The fuck did you just say?” 

Then Connor saw red. “I SAID I DIDN’T FUCKING DO ANYTHING YOU NEANDERTHAL, SO FUCK OFF!” Connor shoved forward trying to shoulder passed the two. A large hand clamped down on his bandaged wrist, yanking it jarringly back and sending him stumbling. 

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going!?” The grip on him tightened, causing Connor to bite his tongue for distraction. 

He hissed in a breath, speaking through clenched teeth. “I’m fucking leaving, Dipshit. I don’t need your fucking bullshit, so let. me. the. fuck. go.” Connors bubbling anger overruled his better judgement and he brought his knee up into the groin of the jock that still had his wrist in a death grip. The guy sucked in a hissing breath, fingers loosening. “YOU LITTLE SHIT!” 

Connor ripped his arm out, taking off. 

He was only a few feet away when the second jock caught up, massive fingers tangling in the back of his hood. Connor gritted his teeth against the sharp sting as he felt hair ripping out of his scalp. Next thing he knew he was being flung to the ground, shoulder colliding with the packed dirt. “Fuck.” Connor hissed, pulling in a short breath before it was cut off. A hand wrapped in his hair and yanked his chin up, forcing him to look at the one who had caught up to him, breath hot in his face. 

“That wasn’t a smart move, freak.” 

Connor still had enough blind rage left in him to pull his face into a bitter grin before spitting directly in the jock’s face. 

“FUCK! YOU STUPID LITTLE SHIT!” The grip on his hair disappeared as the jock wiped franticly at his face. “YOU’RE GONNA FUCKING PAY FOR THAT!” 

Connor scrambled to get his feet under him but collided with the ground again as a heavy fist connected with is nose. 

“Fuck…” Heat flooded his face, the hand that had instinctually gone to cover his injured nose coming away sticky. “Fuck.” Connor spat blood, attempting to right himself. 

Sharp pain blossomed through his torso as he felt a foot connect with his ribs. Then both guys were on him, kicking at his exposed body. 

Then they were pinning him down. He felt hands brushing roughly over his hips, pinning him down and digging into his pockets. For a second the hands disappeared, words passing above him, and then they were back. 

Another of the seemingly endless hands pressed into his face, grinding the left side into the muddy gravel. Then there was hot breath at his ear. "Bet you like this you fucking faggot." As if to emphasize the words, the fingers that had continued to rifle through his pockets became still; slipping out of the fabric, only to clamp down on his thigh. Connor squirmed; rage having been quickly chased out by rising fear; comeback having died on his tongue. The hand responded by slipping higher, ghosting uncomfortably close to Connor's crotch. Instinctually he kicked out, twisting against where he was pinned. The hands briefly receded. Above him he heard a fragmented exchange. "He's clean. Too bad, was looking forward to watching him squirm." Then the face was back above his ear. "Looks like we're cutting things short here Freak, try not to be too disappointed." The words were tossed out casually, the pair laughing to themselves. As fast as they came, the hands receded, and the brutes disappeared back out of the park entrance. 

Heart still racing, Connor spit into the gravel, pulling himself slowly into a sitting position. Wincing, he tucked his knees to his chest. 

"Fuck..." 

Fingers digging into his muddied jeans, he tried to stop the shaking of his hands, ignoring the twinge his bruised knuckles gave at the motion. He felt his chest tightening, breath coming quickly through his clenched teeth. 

"FUCK!" 

His voice echoed off the trees, sending a few birds flitting away. Connor bit back the rising prickling behind his eyes. He couldn't do this here. Not here. Working hastily to get his quaking legs under him, Connor pulled himself up from the ground. Instinctively flipping up his hood, to cover the muddied mats of his hair, and shoving his still quivering hands deep into his pockets. He was almost to the park entrance when his ears caught the nasally sound of a familiar voice. Bristling, Connor dipped his head, hoping to brush by unnoticed. As the voice drew nearer, Connor quickly realized he wasn't going to be so lucky. 

"Hey Connor-" 

The sarcastic drawl tapered off as Connor raised his eyes, sun hitting his bloodied face. The sight eliciting a small gasp from the boy walking beside Jared. A friend of his, Connor presumed. How anyone was friends with Kleinman was beyond him. Before Jared had time to recover his composure and finish whatever jibe he had intended; Connor was pushing past him. 

"Fuck off Kleinman. Not in the mood." 

He didn't look back, but he could feel the prickling stairs on his back as he retreated from the park. Great. School is gonna fucking blow even more than normal, now that motor-mouth Kleinman was on the case. Connor briefly wondered what outrageous story Jared would have the school believing by 8am. Not that it really mattered, people would make their own conclusions as soon as they saw his ugly mug. This wasn't going to be exactly hideable. Fuck...this wasn't going to be hideable. His face looked like he got hit by a train, he could feel it. Which meant it was only a matter of time before Larry saw him and all hell broke loose. So much for what little peace he had managed over the last few days. 

As Connor approached the Murphy House, he noticed Larry's car mercifully absent from the driveway. Meaning he could still buy time to wash up at least before having to face the inevitable thunder. Connor made a b-line for the side of the house, making the instinctive decision to avoid the front door, as Cynthia was likely in the kitchen working on her latest vegan monstrosity. Gritting his teeth, Connor managed to pull himself up to his window and wedge it open, crawling into his darkened bedroom. He quietly made his way across the floor and out into the hall, dipping into the unoccupied bathroom, peripherally taking note of the cookie cutter pop music seeping out of Zoe's room. That meant he likely had some time before anyone came banging on the door. Sliding the latch behind him, Connor absentmindedly flipped on the shower before turning hesitantly towards his waiting reflection. 

"Fuck..." 

He looked bad. Like... really bad. Blood caked his face, oozing from the split skin on the bridge of his nose and the small cuts that littered his cheeks. His nose was almost twice its normal size, and the bruising had already started to form around his eyes. His hand raised on its own accord, prodding lightly at his swollen face. Hissing at the pain the motion caused, Connor swore under his breath. It felt broken, not badly, but enough. The next few days were gonna suck. 

Connor began stripping off, the process taking longer than normal due to bits of his clothes having become stuck where blood had dried, adhering it to his skin. Once he was rid of all of it, he stepped into the heat of the shower, hissing quietly at the sting of the water against his injured body. Red rivulets pouring down his skin and pooling around his feet. 

Only once he was truly soaked through did he give in. His throat felt thick, eyes stinging. His knees shook as he curled in on himself, lowering his body down to the shower floor. Sitting with his back to the streaming water, knees tucked under his chin, the dam broke. It started as small hiccough-like motions, his face burrowing into his tightly wrapped arms. But before long it became wrenching sobs; body quaking, rocking cries. The sound muffled only by the pounding stream of the shower. He didn't even know why he was crying, but that didn't change the all-consuming force with which it hit. 

He sat like that until his guts felt thoroughly overturned and the scalding water had gone cold. When he finally stood and turned off the tap, his body felt like he had run a marathon and his eyelids drooped. Not even bothering to dry off, Connor wrapped a towel around his waist, picked up his discarded clothing and fled to the quiet of his room. He could feel a migraine coming, now that he'd cried all the liquid out of his body, and all he wanted was to sink into the abyss of his bed and sleep until it wasn't possible to sleep any more. 

... 

That fantasy was short-lived, cut into by a sharp voice calling through his door. 

"Connor, Mom says dinner in 5!" 

He groaned, as much as he had been making amends with his sister recently, her voice still had a way of scraping at his already raw nerves. Connor bit his cheek, slowly detangling himself from the bedsheets, hissing as raw skin rubbed against cotton. 

Shuffling over to the mirror, Connor pulled his fingers through his rats’ nest of hair. It had dried while he was asleep, tangled wildly beyond what his finger-comb method could fix. Sighing, he abandoned the futile effort and instead swept a glance over his room to locate a semi-clean shirt. He tugged on a stretched out MCR tee he got in middle school, a black zip-up that had been shoved in the corner, and a pair of ratty sweatpants. Wasn't much use trying to look good. A clean shirt wasn't going to distract anyone from the mess that was his quickly bruising face. 

His shaking fingers searched his pockets out of habit. He just needed something to take the edge off but showing up to dinner smelling of smoke wasn't exactly going to help his case. Connor huffed, instead settling for shoving his hands into his pockets and avidly ignoring their twitching. He shouldered open his door and headed down the hall. He didn't even pause when he got to the landing. There was no point dragging this out. Better to get it done and over with. At least that was the theory he was going with. Fuck Larry, he wasn't worth the energy. 

He hadn't even made it to the table before shit was kicking off. Cynthia gasped loudly, causing Zoe and Larry to turn in their chairs. And then Larry's face was contorting into a grimace while Zoe and thier mom spoke over one another. 

"Oh my god, what happened to your face!?" 

"Honey, who did this to you!?" 

Connor just kept his eyes down, sitting in the only vacant spot at the table. pressing his lips into a firm line and trying to ignore the intensity of his family's stares. 

"Probably his dealer. Dirty habit finally catching up with him. Maybe it will teach him a lesson." His father hissed 

"Larry!" Cynthia chided, sounding genuinely taken aback. 

"What Cynthia? You expect me to be sympathetic? He's always coming home with busted knuckles, acting out, starting fights! You want me to encourage this by coddling him!? You can't keep rewarding this ridiculous behavior!" 

Connors hands shook where they were clenched under the table. He hadn't even spoken, and they had already decided they knew what had happened. It had to be his fault. Of course it was, he was their monstrous fuck-up of a son after all. 

He still hadn't lifted his eyes from his plate, staring daggers at the gluten free mush in front of him. 

"He is our son Larry!" 

"He is seventeen Cynthia this needs to stop! You can't keep treating him like a child! He's got to learn that this kind of behavior can't be tolerated!" 

He still felt Zoe's eyes on him, but he couldn't look at her. All his focus was currently fixated on keeping his breathing steady. He couldn't give Larry the satisfaction of breaking him; not tonight. 

Slowly raising his head. He spoke to no one in particular, trying to keep his voice from shaking. 

"I'm not hungry. I'm going to bed." 

And then he was out of his seat and up the stairs before anyone could protest. 

He slammed his door shut, twisting the lock and turning on his heal toward the closet. Fuck Larry. Fuck those assholes in the park. Fuck Zoe for not defending him. Just fuck all of it. 

He tore through his closet, fishing out his stash box from under piles of rumpled clothes. He just needed a fucking smoke. He couldn't fucking take this sober anymore. Pulling off the top of the tin Connor was met with a few loose rolling papers and an empty buster. Small pieces of dry flower speckled the bottom of the box, but nothing substantial enough to roll any sort of half decent joint. 

"FUCK!" 

A frustrated scream tore from his throat as he flung the box against the wall, scattering its limited contents. 

"Fuck..." He breathed out; scrunching his eyes shut and bringing his fingers up to yank at his hair. The shaking in his hands wasn't slowing and the knot in his chest was making it hard to breathe. This needed to fucking stop. 

His eyes slid over to the crack between his mattress and box spring, a lump rising in his throat. His skin started to feel itchy, like tiny bugs crawling around just under the surface. Unsteady legs carried him across the room and before he had made the conscious decision to, Connor was kneeling by his bed and fishing around under the mattress for what he had stashed there over the summer. Pulling his hand back, he produced the small pack of razors; the dollar store kind meant for stripping paint. There were four left in the pack, having been untouched for almost a month. 'Fuck...' it had been almost a month. Sure, he had dug some gouges out of his arms the other day with his nails, but this...it had been the longest he had gone in far longer than he would like to admit. 

His hands shook as he pulled the razor out of its package, sliding down to the floor, his back pressed into the side of his bed. He shed his hoodie, shrugging it off and flinging it somewhere beside him. He just needed...fuck, he just needed this. He needed everything to just stop for a moment. Sucking in a shaking breath Connor brought the blade to his forearm, pressing slowly and dragging the edge across his skin. Hissing out a breath through his nose, he repeated the action, each time getting more confident, letting out all his pent-up aggression as he tore at his arms. He didn't realize he was crying until a tear slipped from his chin, stinging his fresh cuts. Fuck. He felt so fucking pathetic. But the shaking in his hands had finally subsided. 

Forcing his body off the floor, Connor made quick work of wiping off the blade and re-stashing the package, before dabbing at his arms with an old towel to stop the bleeding. A bone-weary exhaustion had taken the place of his anger, weighing down his eyes. Once adequate clots had formed, Connor turned out his light and threw himself onto his bed, despite the clock only reading quarter past seven. 

... 

He woke to the shrill beeping of Zoe’s alarm clock blaring through the wall. Groaning he rolled over, pushing his head under the pillow to try and dampen the noise. Giving up, Connor pulled himself up so he was sitting on the edge of the bed and scrubbed at his sleep-crusted eyes. His arms protested at the motion, as it tugged at the fresh scabs. ‘Right...fuck.’ With more effort than it should have taken, Connor hauled himself to his feet and began digging around for something to wear. He has slept for almost twelve hours, and yet he felt just as exhausted as he had the night before. After pulling on an oversized sweatshirt and a pair of black jeans, Connor made his way over to the mirror to see what he was dealing with. The swelling in his nose had gone down, but dark purple bruises had settled themselves under both of his eyes and his left cheek was littered with tiny scabs from where the gavel had cut in. He looked like he got hit by a fucking car, and honestly, he felt like it too. Sighing, he tugged at his hair, unknotting it best he could and letting it fall in front of his face, obscuring at least a little bit of the damage. Shouldering his bag, he left his room and trudged down the stairs. He needed a fucking coffee, but he wasn’t about to risk another run-in with either of his parents after last night. So instead of going to the kitchen, Connor headed towards the front door; shoving his feet into his boots before going to sit on the curb and wait for Zoe. 

He was halfway through his second smoke when she finally emerged from the house. Stubbing out his cig, he pocked it and headed toward the car. The ride to school was quiet, Zoe taking sidelong glances at him. She looked like she wanted to say something but wasn’t sure how to start, and honestly Connor was grateful, he couldn’t handle conversation right now. When they pulled into the school parking lot Connor was quick to get out of the car, the tension in the air was making him jittery. 

He put his head down and walked into the school, already catching snippets of whispers and gasps from the people that passed him. Scrunching his eyes shut, he breathed through his nose. This was going to be a long fucking day. 

… 

The first two periods followed in quite similar fashion, stares prickling Conners’ skin, and hushed voices theorizing about what had happened to his face. Most of it was the same unoriginal shit, and it was beginning to eat at his already frayed nerves. Thankfully they had a sub in History and were watching Shindler’s List, so he was able to put is head down and block out the chatter for a while. 

But then the bell was ringing for break, and he was once again forced out into the sea of students swapping out textbooks and chattering inanely. He had almost made it to his locker when he heard someone call his name. 

“Hey Connor, nice face! One of the girls you got tied up finally fight her way out of your basement and give ya what was comin’ to you?” 

“Jared!?” Another voice chastised in a hushed tone. 

Connor rounded on Kleinman, getting into his face and pushing him back against the lockers with a thud, ignoring the yelp of surprise from Jared and the boy who had been standing beside him. His hands gripped Jared’s shoulders holding him in place. 

“What did you just say?” His voice was controlled and icy, mouth set in a firm scowl. 

Kleinman, to his credit, didn’t falter. 

“Just asking who finally had enough of your shit and went ballistic on your face. Or was it some kind of kinky shit?” 

Jared’s snide smirk made Connor’s blood boil and he pressed harder against the boys’ shoulders, knuckles white. 

“I’m done with your fucking shit Kleinman. Shut your goddamn mouth before I shut it for you!” 

He was causing a scene and he knew it. He could feel the stares on his back, but he couldn’t unclamp his hands. His whole body was shaking with built up frustration. 

Jared looked about to retort when a shout rang out from down the hall. 

“Connor! Let him go!” 

He turned his head to see Zoe stalking towards them looking irritated. Scoffing he turned back to Kleinman, ignoring her. 

“Connor, stop it!” She was right beside them now “You’ve gotta stop with this shit.” 

When he didn’t acknowledge her, she let out a frustrated huff and reached up to tug on his arm. He hissed at the pressure her fingers put on his fresh cuts, feeling a few split open, and yanked his arm away; glaring at her. 

When their eyes met, hers were round and scared, but the fear quickly melted into a look of sadness. Fuck that. He didn’t need her fucking pity. 

Grunting in annoyance, he pulled away from Kleinman and stalked off down the hall. This day was getting better by the fucking minute. As if on cue, the forces of the universe seemed to hear him and up the ante. 

Connor felt a large hand on his shoulder in the same moment he found himself stumbling over a foot that had jutted out into his path. The hand shoved him, so he went sprawling to the floor with a thud, smashing his shoulder off the lockers. 

“watch where you’re going faggot.” a gruff voice grunted above him. 

Turning his head, Connor saw the two blockheads from the park sauntering away as they chuckled with their buddies. His body felt cold and he remained on the ground, trying to get his unsteady breathing under control. 

“Connor, are you okay!?” 

Zoe was running over to him with a concerned look on her face. 

Her approached seemed to break the spell and Connor was on his feet again, grabbing his bag from where it had fallen. 

“I’m fucking fine. Leave me alone!” He barked at her, turning his back and stalking towards the bathrooms. 

His shoulder ached from colliding with the lockers and he could feel the trickle of blood down his arm from his re-opened cuts. 

After checking he was alone, he shut the stall door and flicked the latch, resting his head against the graffiti ridden wall. 

“Fuck...” He breathed, eyes slipping closed. 

Swallowing back the stinging in his eyes, Connor set to work cleaning himself up. He rolled up his sleeves, taking stalk of the damage. The cuts were red and inflamed, three or four have split open in the center of his forearm. They were oozing slowly, but nothing too major. Grabbing a handful of toilet paper, he dabbed away at them, wincing slightly at the sensation. Having cleaned up most of the mess, he chucked the bloody tissue into the toilet and flushed it, unlatching the door. 

Swinging the door open, Connor found himself staring down at a startled face. Connor’s eyes narrowed, instinctively on the defensive. 

“Can I help you?” He bit out through his clenched jaw. It wasn’t really a question as much it was a challenge; but it didn’t seem to deter the kid as much as Connor had hoped, as he quickly opened his mouth to respond. 

“Oh! I-I'm sorry, I just wanted t-to make sure you were o-okay. I M-mean, I know you said you were, b-but it’s just... what Jared said was o-out of line and those guys...so...y-yeah. I just wanted...” He trailed off looking anywhere but Connor’s face. 

Fuck. It clicked. This was the guy who’s always hanging around Kleinman; the Hansen kid. He’d had a fucking front row seat to the epic shit-show Connor had just put on, and now he was cornering him in the bathroom offering him...what? Pity? A shoulder to fucking cry on? Fuck that. Whatever it was, he didn’t need it. Especially not from some friend of Kleinman’s. 

“Leave. Me. The fuck. Alone.” He hissed; shouldering is way passed Hansen and heading for the door. 

“I’m sorry! I...sorry.” 

The fumbled apologies almost made him falter. Why the fuck was this kid apologizing? He sounded...almost sincere, like he actually wanted to... 

No. Fuck this. He needed to get out of here. Even if he didn’t have weed he could smoke half a pack before lunch. It was only one class, and he really couldn’t stand another hour trapped in a stupid concrete room right now. 

Connor shoved his way through the flood of students meandering to their next classes and out the back door towards the culvert, hands already fishing a lighter and smokes from his bag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ouuu! finally a little bit of Evan! More to come!


	3. Undertow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit. Hansen. Evan Hansen. The kid with the stupid letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the short chapter, but I'm getting back into writing again!
> 
> tw for reference to suicide  
> and as always, read the tags!

The shaking in his hands had diminished by the time he snuffed out his second cigarette, but something was still nagging at the back of his mind that he couldn’t put a finger on. Why did Hansen follow him? What was he trying to get out of it? Sure, maybe he was trying to be nice, but why? People weren’t nice to him, they just weren’t. So why? Why Hansen? Hansen...Evan...Evan Hansen. 

Fuck. 

It finally clicked into place. Evan Hansen, the kid from the computer lab on the first day of the year. Evan Hansen, the one who's cast he had signed. The one who wrote that weird letter about his sister. He had completely forgotten about that in all the shit that had followed. He had told the kid, when he signed his cast, that they could both pretend to have friends now; but that was months ago. Back before...Fuck. Did this kid think he had to be nice to him now or something? Pretend to be his friend? Fuck that. The last thing he needed was for someone to feel obligated to pretend to like him, or whatever. Fuck. Why did he even say that stupid shit to the kid? It had just been a dumb joke; and now it was coming back to bite him in the ass, like everything fucking else! Shit... If only the pills had of actually worked, then he wouldn’t be having to deal with any of this shit. Stupid fucking failure. He’d had his fucking shot, more than his share of shots, and he blew it...every fucking time. Stupid fucking failure. Always a fucking failure. 

Connor growled, limbs quivering again with anxious energy as the carefully buried feelings in his chest began to stir. 

Shoving his headphones over his ears, he turned his music up as loud as it would go and clenched his eyes shut. He tangled his hands in his hair and tried to shut off his thoughts; a soft mantra of fuck...fuck...fuck, falling from his lips as his breath hitched in this throat. "Fuck." His voice broke around the expletive as he felt the tears he had been trying so hard to contain slip passed his scrunched up eyelids and drip down his cheeks. Connor shoved a fist into his mouth as he tried to quiet the hiccoughing sobs that were clawing their way out. Even with music blaring in his ears, he could still hear the thoughts. They wouldn't fucking stop. 'You're' a fucking pathetic failure. You know it, your family knows it,... shit, even that fucking Hansen kid knows it. You're a weak little loser. You're so pitiful even no-friends Hansen feels bad for you. Pathetic. Fucking worthless little shit. You just break everything you touch. You go fucking up people lives and then feeling bad for yourself. Poor little you. Disgusting.'

All the feelings - rage, the self-pity, the shame, the hatred - all the disgust that had been brewing since he woke up in that hospital last fall. All the feelings that those pills had been meant to erase. The feelings that had just ended up getting stronger.  
All those feelings were bubbling to the surface and there was nothing he cool do about it; nothing to numb it, nothing to stop it. So he continued to choke on the sobs, rocking back and forth, fingers clutching onto the roots of is hair as if that would save him from the tidal wave breaking over him.  
After what felt like eternity, but in reality had been somewhere nearer to fifty five minutes (if the bell signaling the start of lunch break was any indication), the sobs had ebbed to ragged breaths, and the rocking returned to a slight quiver in his limbs. Connor wiped his face aggressively, as students started to file out of the school on their way to stuff themselves full of fast food. His bruised face and freshly scabbed nose protested at the rough treatment but Connor couldn't bring himself to care.

Instead he pulled out another cigarette, feeling more drained than he had in a long time. He felt empty. Hollow. But a small smile of relief still managed to creep onto his lips, relishing in the sort of weightlessness.

But something was still tugging at him; somewhere in the back of his mind. Even. The letter. The sad shitty letter, about his sister, but not really. The genuine gleam of concern in his eyes today. Concern that has outweighed the fear, the rightful fear, of the monster that was Connor Murphy.  
Fuck. He had to talk to Evan. Apologize, again. He owed him another apology. He could at least give him that.

Finishing his smoke with a long slow drag, Connor pulled himself stiffly up from the gravely culvert edge, and shoved his headphones back in his bag. Shouldering his belongings, he set off back into the school to find Hansen.


	4. Friendless Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor isn't great with apologies...or people, but he's trying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly less swearing than usual,  
> but there is drug mentions.
> 
> Lots of Evan! Also a bit of Miguel!

After scanning the cafeteria, library, and auditorium without any luck, Connor was about to call it quits and cut his losses, when he spotted a familiar blue polo down one of the lesser traveled tech hallways. It occurred to Connor briefly that this was the hallway that housed the bathroom he used to hide away from the world when he just needed to shut everything out for a bit. At any other time he would have found it mildly amusing that he and Hansen apparently shared a 'hiding place', but as it was his chest felt far too tight for anything anywhere within the realm of amusement. It wasn't that he was afraid of Hansen, a fucking puppy wouldn't be afraid of Hansen, but Connor wasn't exactly a master at apologies and the last time hadn't exactly ended all that well. He had to shut his eyes and push down the memories of what had happened after he spoke to Evan at the start of the year, one fucking breakdown was more than enough for the day. 

Connor steadied himself, hands coming up to fiddle with the strap of his messenger bag, making himself as small and unintimidating as possible. 

Evan lifted his head as Connor shuffled towards him, his eyes going wide, hands starting to shake even as they held onto a half eaten ham and cheese. 

Connor grimaced, taking note of Evans reaction, it felt like a punch in the gut to see the obvious fear in his eyes, but Connor new he deserved it. 

"Look, I'm not here to yell at you again or anything so you can stop fucking shaking." Connor bit out, admittedly a little harsher than intended.   
"Fuck..." He cursed under his breath as Evan seemed to stop breathing all together, eyes immensely wide. 

Sighing, Connor slid down the wall next to Evan, crouching down beside him.   
Evan flinched at the abrupt shift in proximity, but Connor pushed onward, squeezing his eyes shut as he continued talking. 

"Look..." He huffed out an exasperated breath. "Look, I just wanted to say I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier. You were just trying to be nice and you didn't deserve that." He paused briefly, clearing his throat to fill the silence. "Having said that, you don't have to pretend to give a shit or whatever."

"What?" A soft, shaky voice caused Connor to look over, locking eye's with a bewildered looking Evan. 

"You don't have to pretend to be my friend and shit. Look, I know what I said on the first day, and me being...out of school for a few months, you might think... but you're not obligated to talk to me or anything." Conner squirmed, regretting ever going to talk to Evan in the first place. This was too awkward, and Evan was staring at him and it was making his skin crawl.   
His foot beginning to bounce with nervous energy, Connor sprung up from the floor and started off down the hallway, mumbling a quick "Never mind." over his shoulder. 

"Wait!" Evan shouted from behind him, slightly too loudly, causing Connor to falter and slow to a stop. "Uh..um w-what...uh." Evan muttered. Taking an audible breath he tried again. "What, um, what if I w-want to pretend.. um, if I want to, um, b-be your friend?" Evan stuttered out, causing Connor to turn around and level him with a disbelieving look.   
"Why the fuck would you want that? I already said you don't owe me or whatever." Connor deadpanned, no hint of humor in his tone.   
Even's expression seemed to crack slightly, eyes dropping to the tiled floor.   
"Oh, um, y-yeah, I...I know." He muttered "I just um...no, of c-course you don't want to be friends, um...s-sorry. I'm sorry."

Connor saw hurt in Evan's eyes as he picked at his fingers, looking anywhere but Connor's face. Fuck. He had hurt this kid's feelings...again. Fuck. Why couldn't he do anything right!? 

Turning on his heel, Connor stalked up to Evan and took him by the elbow, bending down to grab Evan's bag, and stalking back down the hallway with Evan in tow. Evan spluttered beside him, but made no move to pull away.   
Connor glanced over at Evan, speaking just loud enough for him to hear. "We're going to get lunch." Connor didn't know if Hansen was serious about being his friend, or what kind of angle he was playing, but right now he honestly thought he could use the company regardless. 

With Evan a half step behind, Connor trudged into the cafeteria and up to a table crowded with boisterous juniors. The raucous voices cut off as he approached, striding over to where his sister was sitting, comparing assignments with one of her friends. 

"Zoe, I need the keys." He held his hand out, expectantly.   
Zoe turned an incredulous expression on him. "Why would I give you my keys? If you wanted to drive you shouldn't have gotten stoned and crashed your car. Maybe then dad wouldn't have taken your keys away." Zoe turned back to her friends, bitter tone only barely masked.   
Conner swallowed the growl growing in his chest. "Fuck, Zoe, I just want to get lunch. I promise to be careful with your precious baby."  
She met his eyes, seeming to evaluate him. She finally nodded minutely reaching into her backpack and producing her trinket-laden lanyard.   
"Fine, but you better be back before band lets out. Oh, and Connor, if you scratch my car you're fucking dead." She flashed him a sarcastic smile and returned to her conversation. 

Connor rolled his eyes and shoved the keys in his pocket, turning and dragging Even out into the parking lot. 

Connor was already unlocking the Zoe's silver Acura by the time Evan spoke up.   
"W-where, um, where are we going?"  
Connor met Even's eyes as he chucked their bags in the back seat.   
"Figured you might like something better than a ham and cheese sandwich for lunch." Connor shrugged non-committally. "Plus I need to run some errands and I could use the company."  
He slid into the drivers seat, pointedly ignoring Evan's eyes on him and the stuttered 'you don't have too's and 'that's okay's coming from the passenger seat.  
"I'm feelin' french fries, so let's hope you like McDonalds."   
Connor didn't give Evan time to argue as he threw the car into reverse and peeled out of the parking spot. 

After a minute or so Connor noticed Evan's white knuckle grip on his seat and chided himself for forgeting how nervous the kid was. Trying not to make a scene of it Connor slowed his speed considerably, even if it was still slightly over the posted limit.   
The silence quickly grew awkward, though thankfully Evan wasn't staring at him. Connor honestly didn't think he was stable enough to take anymore staring right now.   
But he also was in no mental state to make conversation so he leaned forward and flicked through the radio. Settling on some indie rock station, he let the music break the uncomfortable atmosphere and calm his jagged nerves. 

After a few minutes of traffic lights and tapping his fingers along to the unfamiliar music, Connor was pulling into the drive thru.   
Just before they came up to the speaker he turned to Hansen.   
"I'm getting a McDouble and fries, what do you want?"   
Evan immediatly began stuttering out non-committal noises and wringing his fingers.   
Connor bit his lip, as Evan continued to struggle with the decision. Finally Connor realized that the longer it went on the more Evan seemed to be panicking, so he pulled up to the speaker and began ordering himself food.   
With barely a glance at Evan, Connor tacked on a ten piece nugget meal and a Sprite, before pulling up to the window to pay.   
After collecting their food, Connor tossed Evan the nugget meal and slid their drinks into the cup holders. Speaking over his shoulder as he pulled back onto the road, Connor silenced Evans stream of 'you didn't have to get me anything's and general worrying.   
"You don't have to eat it if you don't like, it's not a big deal. Just stop apologizing."  
Glancing over as Evan carefully started to nibble at his fries, he continued.   
"I gotta drop by somewhere before we head back to school. It won't take too long."

  
...

Pulling over in front of a large stone building, Connor dug out his phone and scrolled through his contacts.   
He tried to tell himself he was just craving a smoke when his hand began to shake as he got to the M section.   
Pulling in a deep breath, Connor tapped Miguel's name, avidly avoiding looking at the strings of messages he had sent Connor while he was in the hospital last fall. Letting his eyes close briefly, Connor reminded himself that someone else was in the car and he couldn't lose his shit right now. Him and Miguel were over. This was strictly a business transaction. He could keep it together for five fucking minutes couldn't he?   
Snapping his eyes open Connor tapped out a quick message and set his phone in his lap.   
Glancing over at Evan he saw that Hansen was staring out the window at the big sign-lettering over the front door of the building.   
Turning back towards him Hansen muttered "Hanover? D-didn't you go here one year?" Connor bristled automatically at the question but reminded himself that Evan probably didn't mean anything by it.   
"Yeah, one year."  
"Oh..o-okay. Um..i-if you don't m-mind me asking, um, why are we here?"  
Connor turned away, looking down at the phone in his lap. "I need to pick some stuff up from someone." 

  
What he didn't say was that that someone was the ex he took the fall for when he had gotten caught with drugs in his locker. The ex that was way too good for him in every way, and mentally stable and would never get it, and Connor was just too fucking broken to last with somebody like that.   
What he didn't say was that that guy was still his fucking dealer because he had nowhere else to go, and it fucking crushed him every time he saw him, but what the fuck was he supposed to do about it.   
What he didn't say was that he was so fucking weak that he had to bring a near fucking stranger along as a barrier so he could keep himself together long enough to buy some fucking weed, because he fucking needed it even if it killed him to have to look at Miguel again and know he wasn't his anymore. 

  
Connor was fighting the lump in his throat when his phone buzzed. 

  
**M** : _Be out in 5. A Half is $120._

  
Connor put the phone back in his lap, trying not to be disappointed by the coldness of the text. He had no room to be disappointed. It was his fault they were over.   
Connor busied himself with riffling through his wallet. Pulling out six twenties, he crumpled the bills in his fist and continued to stare pointedly out of the windshield. Evan was silently picking at his jeans in the passenger seat, eyes flitting between Connor's profile and the view out the window.

  
Gritting his teeth as he watched the school doors swing open, Connor berated himself internally for his weakness. He still felt raw and fragile from his earlier meltdown and he knew this was only going to make it worse. But he also knew that the sweet and easy numbness wasn't going to come back until he was half way through a joint. Which was why he was here; a fucking junkie, needing a fucking fix. 

  
As Miguel approached the car Connor turned to Even, who had now abandoned his fraying jeans in favor of shoving nuggets into his mouth.   
"Stay here, I'll be right back."   
Evan eyed Connor with slight panic, but didn't attempt to protest.   
Taking a steading breath Connor opened the drivers side door and slipped out, rounding the front of the car. 

  
Connor stopped a few feet short of Miguel, staring pointedly at his scuffed boots to avoid the boy's eyes.   
"Connor... shit Connor, your face..."   
Miguel's voice was soft; something like caring behind it. Connor screwed his eyes shut and forced a long breath through his nose.   
"I'm just here for the weed, Miguel."  
It was just pity. Misplaced guilt. Miguel had never visited him in the hospital, never done more then send a few apologetic texts. He didn't want Connor back, he knew that. Connor wasn't going to let him get back under his skin and make him feel shit.   
"Connor, we should talk... I didn't...that day... I was working that day, I didn't mean to ignore you. You know that, right? I never meant to hurt you like that...I know I don't really get it but-"  
"Shut up."  
It was more of a growl than intelligible words.  
"-I can try...if you need someone to talk too. I know we ended on kind of a bad note, but I-"  
"SHUT UP!"   
He knew he was making a scene, and was sure he had shouted loud enough for Evan to hear, even in the car, but he didn't care. His fists were shaking where they were clenched at his sides and his chest was aching in a way that made his vision narrow and his breathing turn ragged.   
His eyes flicked up from his shoes to stare daggers. Miguel, for his part, had thankfully fallen silent. Though he flinched slightly at the ice in Connors eyes.   
"Here's your fucking money, just give me my weed and I'll go."  
Connor shoved the bills into Miguel's hand, refusing to break their eye contact, despite the squirming feeling growing in his gut.   
After a moment of stillness that seemed to drag on forever, Miguel reached into his backpack and pulled out a paper bag. He handed it over to Connor with slow, deliberate, movements.   
Connor almost felt like laughing, Miguel was acting like he was some wild animal that might startle. Like Connor would attack with the slightest provocation. But, if he was being honest with himself, that was likely not far from the truth. That fact did nothing to make Connor less uneasy.   
Connor snatched the bag from Miguel's hand and turned on his heel, flinging the car door open and climbing into the driver's seat without a backward glance.   
When he looked up to pull onto the road, Miguel was gone and Connor stubbornly pushed down the cold ache that had been bubbling up in his stomach.

  
...

They sat in science on the drive back to school. Evan seemed to be shoveling food into his mouth as a way to escape having to fill the quiet car with conversation. Despite the awkward atmosphere, Connor was grateful for the time to get his head back together. 

Once they had pulled back into the parking lot and killed the engine, Connor reached into the back seat and grabbed his bag. After shoving his now cold McDonalds into one of the larger pockets, he fished out the battered tin. Chucking his bag back into the seat behind him, Connor opened the paper bag he had gotten from Miguel and pulled out the Ziploc bag of weed it contained. 

  
A strangled sort of choking noise reminded Connor that he wasn't alone and he glanced over, locking eyes with Hansen.   
"I-is that pot!? Did y-you just buy pot!?...w-was that a drug deal? N-not that there i-is anything wrong w-with smoking p-pot! I-it's totally cool if y-you want to..I mean if y-you smoke pot, I mean! I J-just... um..."   
Evan's voice varied wildly in pitch, beginning to get breathy as he struggled to suck air into his lungs, words running together.   
Connor dropped the baggie onto his lap and automatically reached to put a hand on Evan's shoulder without really processing the action.   
Evan flinched, but stopped talking and drew in a few wheezy lungful's of air.   
Connor felt his mouth curl into an amused smirk as Evan's wide eyes flitted between the empty paper bag and the baggie of weed sitting in his lap.   
He chuckled quietly, trying to give Evan a reassuring smile, though he was pretty sure it looked more like a grimace on his busted up face.   
"I'm not gonna smoke it with you in the car, don't worry. I'm not trying to corrupt you or whatever." He dropped his hand from Evan's shoulder wincing at his own poor attempt at comforting the boy in the passenger seat.   
But to his surprise Evan let out a soft laugh.   
"D-don't worry, my mom warned me about cool guys and peer pressure."  
Evan gave him a shy smile, as he shrugged. Connor barked out a genuine laugh. He hadn't though Hansen had had it in him to be sarcastic.   
"Well I'm definitely not cool, so you don't have to worry about that. Do you mind if I roll a few joints? You don't have to stay if it makes you uncomfortable or whatever. Plus lunch is almost over so, if you have places to be..."  
Connor trailed off, not used to having to cater to other people comfort levels, but Evan seemed like an anxious enough person as it was and Connor didn't really want to add to that any more than he already had.   
"Oh uh...um sure. N-no, it's ok-kay, I don't mind."  
Evan fumbled over the words, but didn't seem like he was about to book it out of the car, so Connor turned back to the plastic bag in his lap and started breaking up the dried flower with his fingers.   
It would have been easier if he had his buster with him, but he made due. Rolling up some cardboard he had torn off an old pack of gum, Connor shoved the filter into the end of the paper and sealed the edges, packing it tight before twisting the top. He finished rolling three more joints before calling it quits and stuffing the baggie back into the paper bag. 

  
After pocketing the tin full of freshly rolled joints, Connor turned to Evan, who seemed to have been watching him with rapt attention.   
"I'm, uh, gonna get the keys back to Zoe before lunch is over..."   
He tugged the keys out of the ignition, toying with them awkwardly.   
"Oh, um, y-yeah...o-okay. I should...um, I should get...g-going"   
Evan mumbled, hands fluttering about the car, collecting the empty McDonald's containers and shoving them into his backpack.   
"Th- um...Thanks for lunch. Um...see you, uh... later?"   
The words came out more of a question than a statement. Evan stumbled as he got out of the car, giving an awkward half wave as he speed-walked back to the school doors. 

  
Connor groaned, squeezing his eyes shut and ramming his head back into the headrest. He was fucking useless at being nice. He'd bought the kid food he didn't want, made him an accomplice in a fucking drug deal, and then scared him away. Fuck.

  
Dragging himself out of Zoe's car, he gathered his belongings and headed back into the school, making a bee-line to Zoe's locker.   
Spotting her purple Jansport backpack, Connor cut through the crowd and made his way over to her.   
"Here's your keys. Car's returned in the same condition it was borrowed in, and no one died."   
Zoe looked up from her phone, jumping slightly at his proximity, but took the keys from his outstretched hand and shoved them back in her backpack.   
After her eyes did a quick sweep of the hallway, she looked up at her brother, her expression taking on a quality that made Connor's skin itch.   
"Hey, I'm glad you're hanging out with Evan, he seems like he could be a good friend for you. I...I know you don't exactly like talking to me about stuff, but I think it would be good for you to have someone to talk to I guess..."   
Connor gritted his teeth, shoulders tightening uncomfortably.   
"We're not friends. He didn't have lunch so I took him to get McDonald's. Leave it alone, Zoe."  
He recognized that that wasn't entirely accurate, but he pushed the thought away, opting instead to glare down at his sister.  
Her forehead was creased and she glanced down at Connor's arms where he had begun scratching at them, but before she could open her mouth to say anything else Connor turned on his heel and stalked off down the hallway. 

  
He tugged his hair behind his ear, yanking at the knots, an uncomfortable buzzing energy stirring within him. 


	5. Evolutionary Parallels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's just trying to make it through the day...  
> With maybe a little help from Evan, and none from Zoe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for drug use

The warning bell sounded shrilly overhead, making Connor jump. Cursing low under his breath he tried to reorient himself. 

  
Around him, people were bustling through the hall, headed to their afternoon classes. Arms brushing too close to him on all sides. 

  
Feeling his breathing pick up, Connor nearly sprinted to the nearest bathroom, leaning back onto the cold brick wall as soon as the door shut behind him. 

  
Squeezing his eyes shut he raked his fingers through his hair, focusing on the air being pulled into his lungs. He needed to get himself together.

  
He wanted nothing more than to ditch the rest of the day and work his way through the joints burning a hole in his pocket. But he'd already missed the first half of classes.

  
He let out a frustrated yell, slamming his head back against the grimy wall. Cracking his eyes open, he dug out his phone, pulling up his class schedule. The second half of a double Biology. He could handle that. It was mostly just 'educational' films anyway. 

  
Pushing himself away from the wall he made his way back into the thinning crowd of students, heading for the second floor. 

  
He shuffled into the classroom just as the second bell was ringing, the rest of the students having already taken their seats.   
"Nice of you to join us Mr. Murphy." Mr. Bennet greeted in a condescending drawl. 

  
Connor felt some of the students turn to watch him as he threw his bag down at the open seat in the back. When he glanced up to glare at the onlookers, he met a familiar gaze. 

  
Hansen was staring back at him from across the room, eyebrows knit together. Connor dropped his eyes to his desk as the whispered chatter began picking up. He tried to ignore the hushed voices, even as he caught a few of them mumbling his name, instead opting to pick at his quickly chipping nail polish. 

  
Mr. Bennet's voice cut through the muffled gossip, directing attention to the notes on the board. Beginning to pace, he quickly ramped up into a spiel on Darwinian Philosophy and early evolutionary thinking. 

  
Connor groaned internally, placing his head down on the desk. He didn't bother digging out a pencil and paper to take notes. It would be a miracle if he was able to salvage his grades at this point; being out of school for the first two and a half months kinda fucks your GPA. And yet Larry was on his fucking case every day about 'attendance being important' and 'representing the family name' or whatever. 

  
He closed his eyes, mind getting lost in recounting all of the bullshit lectures Larry had treated him totdn the importance of reputations, and how futures were made or broken on one's public image. If that were the case then Connor was rightly and truly fucked and there wasn't much sense starting to give a shit about it now. But it had always really been about Larry's reputation, not Connor's. All those screaming matches where because Connor was a fucking stain on his families' pristine image and Larry couldn't have that, now could he. His teeth where set on edge at the memories and his foot began tapping out an angry rhythm on the linoleum floor. 

  
He was broken from his train of thought when Mr. Bennet called on him, from the front of the room. "Connor, can you explain to the class the importance of Lamarck's work as a predecessor to Charles Darwin?" His bespectacled gaze flitting down to Connor's barren desk before settling on Connor himself, eyebrow raised. 

  
Connor's jaw worked, teeth grinding together. "No." He bit out, staring daggers at the smug teacher. 

  
"What was that? I'm sorry, but you'll need to speak up." Mr. Bennet's tone was anything but kind; obviously trying to make some sort of example of him. 'Pay attention in my class or else I'll humiliate you', that kind of bullshit. Whatever it was, Connor was in no fucking mood for it.

  
"I said no!" He barked back at the balding pig, staring him down. "No, I can't fucking explain that shit, which you're OBVIOUSLY aware of!" He shoved his chair back, standing abruptly. The buzzing energy in his limbs had now turned into a boiling anger coiled in his stomach. Eyes sweeping the shocked and amused faces of his classmates, Connor grabbed his bag from the floor and yanked it onto his shoulder. "Fuck this! I don't need this fucking bullshit right now." He kicked the chair out of his way and stalked out of the classroom, not stopping until he was down the stairs and out the back door. 

  
A joint was between his lips and he was lighting the end, before his brain had caught up with the motion, rage still bubbling within him. Fuck Mr. Bennet, and fuck Larry. Fuck all their judgment and assumptions and humiliation tactics and disgust. Fuck all of it, and fuck his stupid fucking broken ass brain for not even being able to get through one fucking class. Just one class. Just to prove he could...even just to himself. And he couldn't even fucking do that. 

  
Connor slumped against a tree not far from the back doors, not having the energy to drag himself over to the culvert. A cold self-hatred had settled into his bones as the weed chased away the remaining anger within him. 

  
...

Snubbing out the little that remained of the his spent joint, Connor let his eyes fall closed, resting his weight fully on the sapling maple behind him.   
He breathed out through his busted nose, letting the fog swirl through his head, limbs feeling sated and heavy. 

  
He lost himself in the nothingness; the empty quiet of his mind, turmoil pushed out by drug induced calm. A moment of reprieve that he had needed even more than he had known.

  
...

The bell signaling the end of fourth period cut through the daze, bringing him back to his body. Connor pried his eyes open, feeling groggy but blissfully little else. 

  
He dug into his bag, fingers searching for his half empty pack of cigs. Instead he found himself pulling out a squished McDonald's bag, his stomach growling painfully. Fuck, he was hungry. Thinking back, he hadn't eaten since yesterday. He'd meant to, but his parents, and then seeing Miguel again...well he hadn't exactly felt like eating after that. But now he was ravenous. He shoved half of the burger into his mouth in one bite, groaning. Fuck...there was nothing better in the world than eating shitty fast food while stoned out of your mind, and there was no one that could tell him differently.

  
By the time he had polished off the fries, his mouth was dry as fuck. Tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. 

  
Sluggishly he pushed himself up on numb legs and started gathering up the scattered food wrappers. 

  
He shouldered his bag and made his way back through the heavy metal doors into the school. 

  
Finding the nearest vending machine, he dug out a crumpled bill and shoved it in the slot. Keying in the number, he watched as the bottle of water fell into the tray at the bottom, eyes blurry. He yanked the bottle out of the machine and quickly downed most of it. 

  
The halls were empty, as fifth period had already started, and he wandered without a real destination in mind. 

  
After a few minutes he found himself shouldering open the library door. 

  
He kept his head down and headed to the far back corner where a few tables were set up for people to study during free periods. 

  
Connor was digging out his headphones, feet on auto-pilot, when his boot caught on something in his path and sent him stumbling. 

  
"Shit!" He hissed as his knee collided with the leg of a table, sending pins and needles down to his toes. 

  
He heard some sort of sound start up behind him, but it took a few more seconds for his foggy brain to understand them as words.

  
"-s-so sorry! I, um, I shouldn't have left my backpack...um, are...uh are y-you okay?" 

  
Connor's eyes trailed up from the sneakers that were suddenly in front of him.

  
Hansen. Hansen was standing in front of him rambling out apologies. His open school bag next to a computer chair, looking slightly askew, having caught on Connor's foot. 

  
Before Connor could stop himself a laugh was bubbling up out of his chest at the familiarity of the situation; Evan at a library computer, and Connor stumbling in after getting high as a fucking kite. Not that there was anything remotely funny about the last time they had met like this, but that didn't stop the stupid grin on his face.

  
Evan's brow creased, body language becoming increasingly self-conscious. Connor quickly clamped his hand over his mouth, stifling his laughter.   
"Shit, no, I'm not laughing at you." He quickly corrected, trying to back-peddle. "It's, I just, we've been here before."

  
Evan's eyebrows furrowed further, looking thoroughly confused.

  
"Fuck, sorry, I'm fucking stoned. I'm not making any sense." Connor waved his hand dismissively, "I'm fine. I mean, my leg is fine. Don't worry about it."

  
Hansen dropped his gaze, glancing back at his bag uncertainly. "Oh...uh, o-okay...I-if you're sure."

  
Connor nodded, moving to turn away and continue back to the far corner table, when a hand caught his sweater sleeve. 

  
"Um, wait!" Connor turned back to face Evan who had flushed bright red, evidently not having meant to speak quite as loudly as he had.

  
Evan dropped his sleeve quickly, looking down at his feet. "Um, Mr. Bennet assigned us a p-project... and, um, w-we got paired up s-since no one, um, picked...uh I mean...uh, you and I got paired t-together. S-so, um I got y-you an assignment outline, since you, uh, since you weren't there." 

  
Connor stared dumbly at him, only really hearing the part where Evan said 'you weren't there'... not 'you freaked out' or 'you went all psycho on the teacher' just...'you weren't there'. For some reason that little thing caused Connor's chest to tighten and he had to swallow down the lump that was forming in his throat, mentally kicking himself for having such a stupid reaction to something so inconsequential. 

  
"-so, uh, so it's not that compl-complicated of a project. Just, um, just a two page research report on one of the...on one of the, um, pre-Darwinian concepts of biology, so.." Evan sucked in a lungful of air. "So, um, yeah it's...uh, it's due next Friday-"

  
The fidgeting boy looked as if he was going to continue to ramble, and Connor took that as his cue to interrupt. 

  
He shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out his cracked iphone, quickly keying in his password and opening up his contacts. Connor unceremoniously thrust the phone into Evan's hands, effectively silencing his fumbling speech. 

  
Hansen stared down at the device, as if were a bomb, eyes wide. 

  
"Put your number in. Then we can figure out a time to work on the project" Connor supplied, nodding at his phone in Evan's hands.

  
"O-oh, uh, yeah..." Evan blushed, quickly typing in his information, despite his shaking hands. Holding it back out to Connor, and wiping his palms on his jeans awkwardly once Connor had re-pocketed his phone.

  
"Cool, I'll text you." Nodding briefly, Connor turned and walked off, feeling Evan's eyes on him as he made his way to the back of the library. 

  
After falling into one of the chairs at the empty table, it occurred to Conner that he'd never actually gotten the assignment sheet from Hansen. Not that it really mattered, it would have just ended up at the bottom of his bag anyway. 

  
Connor felt drained, high fading into heavy exhaustion. Not only were his bruised muscles aching, but he'd had more human interaction today then the past month combined, and it had left him feeling thoroughly worn out. 

  
Folding his arms on the table, he laid his head down and let his eyelids fall shut. 

  
He woke to the final bell, signaling the end of classes. Carding a hand through his tangled hair, he pulled himself upright, feeling marginally more human. 

  
Zoe had Jazz band for the next hour, which meant he was stuck here unless he wanted to walk home. But with the beating his body had taken not even twenty-four hours ago, walking home didn't sound all that appealing. He did at least need to stretch his legs though, because sitting in the same position for the last forty minutes had made his ass go numb. 

  
...

Connor ended up doing a lap of the school once all the other students had cleared out, eventually making his way out the front doors and over to a bench that overlooked the empty bus loop. It was warm, feeling more like June than it did early March. 

  
He sat down, letting his head fall back, soaking up the feeling of the sun on his face. He'd always been a summer person, even if it could be sweltering when you were always wearing a hoodie. Summer just felt like the world could actually be beautiful, in spite of all the ways people continually fuck it over. 

  
...

After a few minutes, Connor dug out his phone, pulling up Evan's number. He figured he should text him before he forgot about it. That way they could actually plan something. It's not that Connor cared about Mr. Bennet's stupid fucking assignment, but he wasn't about to fuck over Evan's grade on it just because he didn't feel like doing the work. He tapped out a quick text.

  
**Connor:** _hey, it's Connor. now you have my number incase you have any ideas for the project or whatever_

  
He pocketed his phone, not really expecting a reply. 

  
Zoe still had at least thirty minutes left before she was out of band and Connor was bored out of his fucking mind. A dull throb had started up between his eyes, and it was putting him on edge. 

  
Shoving his hand into his bag, he dug around for the small tin, yanking out another joint. He had plenty of time before he got home for the high to wear off, and he needed a distraction from the thrumming ache in his skull.

  
...

He had burnt through a third or so of the joint when he decided to call it quits, snuffing it out and returning the tin to his bag. The pain in his head had ebbed, giving way to a fuzzy sort of warmth. 

  
Connor swung his legs up, reclining on the grimy bench and letting the sun wash over his face. 

  
He hadn't realized he had dozed off until something heavy came down on his stomach, jolting him awake.

  
He pulled in a wheezing breath, Zoe's backpack having knocked the air out of him, where it landed on his chest. 

  
"What the FUCK Zoe!?" He barked, glaring in startled annoyance at her back as she turned and started towards the car.

  
Grumbling and groaning Connor shouldered both of their book bags, body protesting, and trudged after his sister. 

  
Chucking their bags in the back seat, Connor slammed the door shut as he slid into the car next to Zoe. He yanked his seatbelt on as she keyed the ignition, her expression sour. 

  
"The fuck is your problem?" Connor snapped without hesitation, high loosening his tongue. 

  
"You smell like pot." Zoe's voice was clipped, eyes not meeting his. 

  
"That's your business how?" He bit out, instantly defensive. He didn't need a talking to from his little sister. 

  
Zoe shook her head, seeming to deflate slightly as she pulled out of the school. 

  
"I...I just had a kind of shitty day and I really wanted tonight to be calm..." She sighed quietly.

  
The words weren't directly about him, but he could hear the real meaning behind them.

  
"You fucking think I don't want that too!?" His breathing picking up, nails digging into his palms. 

  
"If you really wanted that you wouldn't have gotten high." 

  
Connor shook his head, a bitter sort of laugh finding it's way out of his tight throat. "It's not that fucking simple, Zoe."

  
"Sure." Her tone was dismissive, the same way Larry's always was. Like they had any fucking idea what it was like.

  
Connor gritted his teeth. "Fuck you."

  
Zoe just sighed quietly, staring out at the road ahead. 

  
Connor seethed in silence, trying in vain to ignore the gnawing guilt in the pit of his stomach. 

  
...

Zoe pulled the car into their driveway, parking and slamming the door without a backward glance. 

  
Dragging his feet, Connor followed, pausing to grab their bags. 

  
After dropping Zoe's book bag at the foot of the stairs, he turned and made a bee-line for the kitchen, ignoring his mother's greeting from somewhere to the right. 

  
He yanked open the fridge, surveying the containers of diet leftovers and cashew milk with a grimace. 

  
Connor settled for a jar of roasted peanuts and some wheat crackers and turned back to the stairwell. 

  
Climbing the steps, he headed for his room, slamming the door and falling onto the bed. 

  
Lifting his phone to his face he sent off a short text to Zoe.

  
**Connor:** _tell mom i have a headache and dont want dinner_

  
Mashing the send button, he laid back, rubbing his temples. 

  
Rolling over, he tugged open his mini-fridge and grabbed a can of Coke, before shoveling his bland 'supper' into his mouth without really tasting it. 

  
He was just ready for today to be over and for the growing feeling of guilt to be shoved back into the little box it had come from. 

  
Fuck Zoe, and fuck Mr. Bennet, and fuck Larry. 

  
Connor had almost fallen asleep, not having bothered to change out of his clothes, when his phone buzzed. 

  
He grabbed it off the night stand, fully expecting it to be Zoe telling him off. 

  
Instead he was met with a series of texts from someone else entirely.

  
**Evan:** _Hi, it's Evan._  
**Evan:** _Obviously. I mean, you have my number so you already know that._  
**Evan:** _I just wanted to see if you would maybe be free tomorrow after school to work on the Biology assignment. My mom is at work, so we could work on it at my house._  
**Evan:** _If you want to. If you're free at all._

  
Connor chuckled quietly in spite of himself, a smirk pulling at his lips.

  
**Connor:** _sure_

  
Connor pressed send, before rolling back over and closing his eyes. 


	6. Anticipation of Expectation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor goes over to Evan's. Neither one really know how things like this are supposed to go, but they're figuring it out.

Connor woke feeling significantly better rested than he had the day before, weed having lulled him into a deep dreamless sleep. 

  
Having dressed quickly, he dug around on his desk, chucking a lined notebook and a few stray pens into his bag. He was headed over to Evan's place after school, and he knew the kid was better at science shit than he was, so the least he could do was be somewhat prepared.   
It wasn't that he was stupid or anything (contrary to popular opinion), he'd always just been more arts and literature minded, math and science weren't exactly his thing. Not to mention the fact that he had missed a solid forty percent of the classes this year. But Evan was a fucking genius with that shit, if Connor remembered correctly. So if Hansen had the misfortune of being paired with him, Connor would at least try not to bring the boy's grade down. 

  
...

Connor waited on the step as Zoe finished getting ready, taking lazy drags off of a cigarette and absentmindedly rubbing a thumb back and forth across his wrist.   
The skin there was still raw and sensitive beneath his bracelets, the rough pad of his thumb tugging slightly at the scabs. The slight twinge was enough to keep him grounded while the nicotine tried to pull his head up into the clouds. 

  
Snuffing out his smoke, he flicked the butt into a garden shrub, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He let his hair fall over his face, relishing the silence of the morning, knowing it would likely be the last moment of quiet for the rest of the day.   
Hearing Zoe call out a goodbye to their mother from behind the door, he pushed himself up off the step and shouldered his bag, making his way over to the car.   
Everything seemed gray today; not bad, or any of that shit, just dull and muted. But after yesterday's rollercoaster, he'd settle without complaint. 

  
Zoe unlocked the car, chucking her bag in the back and slipping into the driver's side. Connor followed suit, leaning his head against the window an she pulled out of the driveway. 

  
They had made it to the road their school was on, when Zoe spoke; voice small and hesitant. "Thanks. For...you know, the quiet...last night." Connor's brows knit together as he listened, but he didn't lift his head. "And...sorry for being a bit of a bitch about it."  
The car was quiet again when she finished speaking. He didn't know what to say. What the fuck was he supposed to say to someone thanking him for basically removing himself from the equation, because whenever he's involved shit hits the fan. He didn't hold it against her. He was a walking time bomb, sooner or later there would be an explosion. It's not her fault for not wanting that around.   
He picked at his thumb nail, trying not to lose himself in the thought. The silence in the car became tense as it stretched on, Zoe pulling into the parking lot.   
Connor opened the door, as she parked, not bothering to face her as he spoke. "I'm going over to a classmate's house to do an assignment after school, so there you go, two nights Connor-free."

  
He kept his head low, heading towards the school without waiting up for her. His thoughts spiraling back to the beginning of the year. They'd been wrong, it would have been better for everyone if the pills had stuck. It was all just that stupid guilt shit people say, because they think it makes them monstrous to want someone dead. They think it's wrong to see someone as a burden, or at least to voice it. So they say how much they love you and want you there, even if you both know it isn't really the truth. 

  
Biting his tongue, Connor pushed passed the doors, trying to pull himself out of his head. He shoved his headphones over his ears, blocking out the mutterings that seemed to always follow him.   
He let his tangled hair shroud his face as he made it to his locker, shoving his Biology book into his bag. He didn't actually have Bio today, but he needed something to do with his hands so he busied himself with grabbing the few sheets of notes he'd made since the start of the unit and found a spot for them in his book bag that wouldn't crumple them any further. 

  
...

He'd made it to homeroom before even the warning bell had gone off. Sliding quietly into the back of the room and slumping into a chair. Out of the corner of his eye Connor caught the look of bewilderment on the teacher's face, where he sat at the front desk. He smirked at that, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest.   
It wasn't that he had any desire to be on time, or there at all for that matter, but he needed this day to be as uneventful as possible. He wasn't exactly a social butterfly, so he needed all of his energy if he was expected to 'socialize' tonight. Evan if that just meant highlighting text book passages with Hansen. It was more than he was used to. 

  
He wasn't exactly nervous, but there was a certain unease in the pit of his stomach at the thought of being alone with someone in their space. An unfamiliar place where there were rules and expectations he was unaware of. He wasn't really sure why, but it felt like it mattered. He actually kinda gave a shit about not fucking this up.   
He'd been a dick to Evan, more than once, and the guy was still willing to give him another shot without any snippy comments or judgmental looks.   
That was more than he could say for his family. Well, maybe Zoe, at the start. They had been close once, and maybe back then she'd been more forgiving. But he'd long since fucked that up royally. 

  
He'd fucked everything in his life up royally. So maybe that's why he felt so desperate for this to go well. I mean, the kid said he'd wanted to be his friend; people weren't exactly lining up around the block for that role where Connor was concerned. I'd be nice to have someone who didn't look at him with pity and disgust. 

  
...

His first two classes had been manageable. English had been a reading period, and Connor had read Romeo and Juliet in middle school, so it didn't take much brain power to skim through it again. Math had been mostly a unit review so he was able to put his head down and listen for the majority of the class. 

  
Zoe cornered him by his locker at break. Connor nearly jumped out of his skin, when he turned around and was met with his sister standing inches from his face, as it was he swore quite loudly. "Christ, Zoe, what the fuck!?" She didn't seem fazed by his tone, making pointed eye contact, with a determined set to her jaw. "I don't want you gone, Connor."  
He blinked back at her, but she didn't wait for him to respond before continuing. "I was a bitch about you getting high yesterday and I'm sorry. You drive me fucking crazy sometimes and your shit with dad can make things tense at the house, but I don't want you gone. You're my brother and I...I need you here, so please don't do anything stupid, okay? I don't think I could take that again..." Tears were pooling in her eyes and he voice was thick. Connor stood like a deer in the headlights entirely at a loss for what the fuck to do or say to...all that. This wasn't what they did. They bitched at one another and called each other names. Zoe didn't do this whole heavy heartfelt shit, not with him.   
She raised her eyes up to his again, brows creased. "...Okay?" Connor could do nothing but nod mutely, gaze dropping to his boots to escape the emotion behind her eyes.   
In his periphery he saw Zoe give a small nod and turn away, wiping at her eyes as she went.   
He just stood frozen, both numb and all too full of feeling.

  
Not knowing what else to do, Connor forced his feet to move, heading pointedly in the direction of the back doors.   
He leaned against the outside wall and drew out a cigarette with shaky hands. By the time he was down to the filter, he was left with an odd warmth pooling in his chest.   
He snuffed out his smoke with the toe of his boot and headed back into the school, turning down the hall towards his next class.

  
...

Connor managed to trudge his way through a double History, staring blankly down at his note paper for the majority of the lecture.   
He spent the lunch period by the culvert, chain smoking cigarettes and cycling through old playlists as loud as his headphones would allow.   
By the time he made it to final period he'd almost managed to work the knot of anxiety out of the pit of his stomach. 

  
...

Then it was three thirty and he found himself standing outside the front of the school, methodically taking drags off of his cigarette as he waited for Hansen to gather his things and meet him. 

  
Hearing his name tentatively from behind him, he turned and found Evan, with books in his arms and back pack hooked over one shoulder. Flicking the end of his smoke to the sidewalk Connor followed after Evan as he headed to the parking lot. Evan let them towards a beat up looking blue Ford. He stopped short when a familiar bespectacled head emerged from an open driver's side door. 

  
"Hey, Acorn, what do you say we-the fuck is Murphy doing here!?" Jared's eye's were round with surprise, flitting between Evan and Connor.   
"I, uh, I um...we have a Bi-biology assignment...I m-mentioned it." Evan couldn't seem to lift his gaze from his scuffed sneakers, but his brow had an apologetic crease to it.   
"You didn't tell me your partner was Psycho over there!" Connor's nails bit into his palm.  
"Jared, d-don't say that, he's not-" Evan defended weakly, still speaking into his feet.   
Connor bit the inside of his cheek, jaw tight. "It's fine Hansen, we can do it another night. I'll get Zoe to lend me her car or something." He went to turn away, not sure where he was headed but wanting to get far away from fucking Kleinman, before he punched him in his smug mouth.   
He jerked to a stop when Evan's hand shot out and latched onto his sleeve. Connor knew he could break out of his grip easily if he tried, but something about the way Evan turned to him, plea clear in his wide eyes, made his shoulders loosen and his fists unfurl.  
"Jared." Hansen's voice was clear and determined, breaking eye contact with Connor to glare over at Kleinman.   
Behind him he heard Jared sigh dramatically. "Fiiiine! But he better not slash my upholstery or whatever, and you gotta tell your mom to tell my mom I was nice to you." Evan grimaced but nodded slightly. 

  
Connor let himself be led by the sleeve, rounding Jared's junker of a car. He kicked the empty RedBull cans out of his foot well and folded himself into Kleinman's cluttered backseat. Not bothering with a seatbelt, he leaned against the window and watched as Jared and Evan settled themselves into the front.  
He caught Jared throwing wary glances in the rearview mirror as they drove, eyeing him like he was something rotten that he wanted to get out of his car as quickly as possible. Connor glowered back, eyes venomous. 

  
Before long the were turning down a cracked street that Connor didn't recognize, and slowing to a crawl outside of a faded yellow house. Jared made a sharp turn into the driveway, mounting the curb in the process, before swinging his arm in a sweeping gesture towards the house. "Okay assholes, you're here, now get out of my car."   
Connor pursed his lips, biting back a snarky retort, as Evan stumbled over a thank you. He swung the car door open noisily and hauled himself out. Standing off to the side as Evan gathered his books. Connor shifted his weight awkwardly as Evan came to stand beside him and Jared peeled back

out of the driveway. He wasn't used to being at other peoples houses, he hadn't exactly had much reason to be in the passed, outside of shitty family gatherings.   
Evan met his gaze, mumbling a quick 'we should go inside' before unlocking the door and leading him into a cozy little foyer. Evan fiddled with his fingers, looking embarrassed as Connor took in the space, it wasn't a large house by any means but it felt lived in and homey, which was more than he could say for his own house. 

  
"You can, um, you can put your shoes there and um, we can...we can g-go up to my room to work." Evan suggested, pointing to a small shoe rack beside the door.   
Evan led him up a set of carpeted stairs, and into what Connor presumed to be his bedroom.

  
Evan's room was probably half the size of Connor's but it didn't feel cramped. The light blue walls were clear of pictures, although there were a few frames sitting on the small desk across from the foot of the bed. The bed itself was tidy, with a gray quilted bed spread and simple wooden headboard. The only point of real interest was the tall bookshelf by the desk, over flowing with books, stacked two deep in some places.   
Connor found himself immediately curious, crossing the room in a few short strides and tilting his head to take in the various titles. Connor could hear Evan pulling things out of his backpack, but he didn't turn away from the shelf. It was covered in everything from novels, to auto-biographies, to what looked like straight up text books; but they all seemed to have a recurring theme. 

  
He looked back over his shoulder, tucking his hair behind his ear. "So you're a nature guy, huh? No wonder you're so good at all this science shit if you read this kinda stuff for fun." Connor smirked, making sure Evan could see his face and would know he wasn't being a dick.   
Evan looked up briefly before dropping his gaze and going slightly red. "uh, yeah...I-I guess so." His voice was quiet, but Connor could see the smile playing on his lips. 

  
...

They had been at it for about an hour, sitting cross-legged on Evan's bed. Evan using sticky notes to mark relevant textbook pages, and Connor reading through the last month or so of Evan's class notes.   
Even though Connor's brain felt like it was melting from staring at sheets upon sheets of loose leaf, he felt more at ease than he had all week. It was surprising, he had expected to be uncomfortable in the unfamiliar space and to feel stupid, like he was hindering the project more than helping, but they had fallen into an easy rhythm. Evan would gather important data from the book and tell Connor what notes to look at to supplement the book information. Plus, whenever Connor stumbled upon something he didn't understand, Evan would happily explain it, seeming to enjoy teaching him; eyes getting big and expressive, talking animatedly with wide gestures.  
It was odd, like they were in some weird liminal space where neither of them where the same as they had been outside the four walls of Evan's bedroom. Connor felt lighter, enjoying being in someone's presence who didn't look at him like they were waiting for the other shoe to drop. Evan seemed different too, not hunched over with his forehead creased and avoiding eye contact, instead smiling a small smile over at Connor as he tried and failed to pronounce the names of long dead French scientists. 

  
...

By the time six o'clock rolled around they were turning into zombies, Connor having stopped processing the words he was reading about two and a half pages ago.   
He looked up when Evan closed the book he had been skimming and flopped back across the bed. Connor closed the binder in his lap and tossed it on the stack between them. 

  
"Any chance you've got some food in this place?"  
Evan lifted his head, looking abashed. "Um...I think we have some pizza pockets in the freezer? Sorry, we're kinda low on groceries and my mom works a lot, and I don't um, I don't exactly drive, so..."  
Connor shook his head, grinning at Evan. "Pizza pockets sound fucking great! My mom is always on these fad bullshit diets so we never have anything in the house that doesn't taste like cardboard." That got a snort out of Evan, and he rolled off the bed and turned to Connor.   
"Come on...snack break." 

  
Connor followed him down to the kitchen and leaned against the counter while Evan dug out the pizza pockets and popped them in the microwave.   
When Evan turned back towards him his expression had taken on it's usual guarded quality again. "T-thanks, um, thanks for coming over. I mean, I know we h-have that project so you...you kinda had to, but um..."   
Evan had begun picking at his fingers, not meeting Connor's eyes. Connor felt like he'd just stepped out into a blizzard; his chest felt cold, mind reeling slightly from the shift in atmosphere.   
He wanted to be here. He was enjoying himself, and that didn't exactly happen often. He felt weirdly comfortable with Evan. He needed to make him see that. He needed him to understand that he wasn't forcing him to be here. He wanted to be here. He needed Evan to understand that.  
He wanted to go back to the easy energy they had only a few minutes ago. He wanted Evan to smile again.   
A strange sense of urgency overcame Connor, forcing him forward before his brain had time to catch up.   
His hands came up to clutch Evan's shoulders, forcing their eyes to meet. " Stop. You're not forcing me here against my will. I said yes to coming over. I'm having a good time. Like...fuck, the best time I've had in a long time, okay?" Connor's gaze bored into Evan's with charged intensity, forcing him to understand that he meant what he was saying. "You got that?" Evan nodded, eyes wide.

  
The shrill beeping of the microwave made them both jump slightly.  
Connor dropped Evan's shoulders, leaning back against the counter, slightly awkward now that the moment had passed. "Plus, you explain smart people shit to me...and you have junk food...so that helps." He looked up from under his hair at Evan, lips quirked into a small grin.  
Evan laughed, a breathy sort of laugh, shaking his head slightly as he turned to grab plates out of the cupboard.  
He set down the plates, as Connor followed him with his eyes. Grabbing the steaming pizza pockets out of the microwave, Evan crossed the kitchen to the fridge and stuck his head in. "What do you- what do you want to drink? We have uh...milk, and uh...Sprite, and water."  
Connor chuckled, pleased that whatever cloud of insecurity had briefly settled over Evan had seemed to pass. "Water's good." 

  
Connor grabbed some paper towel off a roll by the sink and picked up the plates, placing them on the small oak table in the little eating nook just off of the kitchen. Evan followed behind with two glasses of water.   
They settled into a comfortable silence, shoving their mouths full of still slightly scalding cheese.

  
...

It was going on nine pm when Connor's phone started buzzing.   
They'd managed to put together an outline for their paper, Evan typing up bullet points of key information to include.  
Connor dug his phone out of his hoodie, seeing a string of texts from Zoe. 

  
**Zoe:** _Where the fuck are you._  
**Zoe:** _Mom and Dad are freaking out. I think they're gonna send out search parties soon._  
**Zoe:** _Seriously Connor._

  
He rolled his eyes at the screen, typing out a response to his sister.

 **Connor:** _i told you to tell them i was working on a project with someone from school_

  
He had barely set his phone down when it chimed again.

  
**Zoe:** _And you think they believed that? They think you're at some flop house or something. (You're not are you?)_

  
Connor groaned, rolling his eyes and flopping down across the bed. Evan turned from where he had set up shop at the desk. "You, uh...You okay?"   
Connor lifted his head, shrugging. "Family's being assholes." He pushed himself back up into a sitting position, retrieving his phone from where he had flung it on the other side of the bed. 

  
"C'mere for a sec. I gotta send Zoe a picture of us so she knows I'm not in some heroin den."  
Evan's brows pulled together, seemingly unsure if Connor was serious, but he got up and made his way over.  
"Are you, um, are you usually in a- in a heroin den?" Evan smirked, keeping Connor from becoming defensive. He rolled his eyes and pulled Evan down onto the bed next to him.   
"My family assumes that if I'm not in their direct eye line I MUST be doing SOMETHING deplorable or otherwise illegal." He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, getting a small chuckle out of Evan. "C'mon, look pretty for the camera." Connor pulled up his camera app and yanked on Evan's sleeve so their faces were both in frame. Snapping a quick picture of a slightly bewildered Evan, and himself, he sent it off to Zoe and went back to the notes that surrounded him.   
Evan continued to sit beside him, opting to reorganize the haphazardly strewn sheets of paper into some semblance of organization.   
A notification from Zoe lit up his phone beside him, and he leaned over to read it. 

  
**Zoe:** _You're with Evan??_

  
He sighed, spelling it out for her.

  
**Connor:** _yes zoe. im with evan. hes my partner for the biology paper_

  
His phone was silent for a few minutes after that, he and Evan sifting through paper together.   
Just when he had almost forgotten about it, his screen lit up with another text. 

  
**Zoe** : _Okay, showed mom and dad the picture. You're off the hook for now. Dad's grumbling but Mom seems a little too happy that you're spending time with 'good influences'._

 **Zoe:** _p.s. you owe me_

  
Connor flicked his phone across the comforter, fingers coming up to massage his temples. This shit was giving him a headache.   
Evan tapped him lightly on the shoulder, causing Connor to turn and face him.   
His posture had taken on an awkward edge to it again. "You, uh, if your family...I mean if you don't want to, uh...go home, my mom works a double tonight so she won't be home until the morning if you, um...if you want to stay here or something. Not that you want to! Or-or have to or whatever! I uh, I just thought um maybe...not that there's anything wrong with your-your family or a-anything. Just, uh, you seemed...uh, you seemed-"   
Connor cut him off, catching Evan's hand to stop him from pulling at his cuticles. "Sure. Sounds good." he nodded slightly, making sure Evan know he was serious and not just saying shit. "I'll text Zoe so my parents don't call the cops or anything." His mouth pulled up into a lopsided grin as Evan seemed to settle down. 

  
**Connor:** _staying at evans. ill get a drive with him tomorrow_

...

  
They finally gave up on working at about quarter to ten, Evan yawning at the computer screen more than actually typing.   
Connor was kinda new to this whole 'hanging out' concept, but he figured so was Evan so he probably didn't have a lot to live up to. He pushed himself to his feet, coming to stand next to where Evan was staring unseeing at the keyboard.   
"Movie?"   
Evan jumped slightly, whipping his head around, having not heard Connor get up.  
"W-what?" Connor smirked, eyeing Evan.   
"Do you want to watch a movie? I don't really care what, just figure we should call it quits. I'm not sure I actually read any of the shit I've been looking at for at least the last half an hour." He figured he'd give Evan the out, not wanting to embarrass the guy by pointing out how he was basically drooling onto the desk a second ago.   
"O-oh, uh, yeah. Sure. Um, we have a TV down stairs. there- uh, there's Netflix."  
Connor quirked a brow. "Hansen, Netflix and chill, huh? Just invited me over to get in my pants?"   
Evan's face turned bright red, eye's as round as saucers as he stuttered out something to contradict Connor.   
Connor broke into a grin, shaking his head and waving Evan off. "Dude, I'm fucking with you, don't worry. C'mon." He nodded towards the door, dipping out into the hall and down the stairs, a still spluttering Evan not far behind. 

  
...

They ended up watching the last half of some nature-doc Evan had been watching on migratory birds. Connor was more focused on the genuine interest Evan seemed to have for the subject, than he was on the Documentary itself. 

  
When the film was over, Evan unfurled himself from the blanket he was tangled in and stretched, stifling a yawn. He turned back to Connor, scanning him with his eyes.  
"Do you, uh, want something more comfortable to, um...to sleep in? I don't think my pants would be- would be long enough, but they might work, and I have some t-shirts-"  
"No!" Connor cut him off, slightly too aggressively.   
Evan's eyes widened slightly and he stopped talking.   
"Shit, I mean, no I'm good. I uh, I get cold easily so...I don't mind sleeping in my sweater." Connor dropped his eyes to the floor, fidgeting with the cuffs of his sleeves.   
Evan just nodded, picking up his blanket off the floor. "Well, I have um...I have some extra sweat pants and stuff if you decide you want them." He grabbed another blanket from the chair to the right of the sofa. "C'mon, you um, gotta get up so I can make your bed...or couch." Evan smirked shyly down at him, causing Connor to laugh quietly, shaking his head as he stood. 

  
...

Once they'd gotten Connor's makeshift bed together, he followed Evan upstairs to gather his stuff from Evan's room.   
After the other boy had pointed out his less than stellar sleep attire Connor started to notice just how uncomfortable his jeans actually were, and he wasn't all that keen to try and sleep in them.   
"Um, Evan?" Evan turned from where he had been digging out a pair of plaid pajamas for himself. "Any chance I could take you up on the sweatpants offer. Turns out sleeping in skinny jeans gets less appealing the more you think about it." He rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably, looking at Evan through his lashes.   
Evan grinned, turning back to his dresser and pulling out a pair of maroon joggers and throwing them towards Connor.   
Connor went to the bathroom as Evan changed in his room. He scrubbed his face with warm water, wincing as he brushed the tender spots around his healing nose. He pulled his pants off, tugging Evan's sweats on in their place. He had been right, the legs where about three inches too sort, but they were comfortable, if not a little ridiculous looking.   
He tugged his hair up into a loose bun at the base of his neck to keep it from getting too tangled while he slept and made his way back across the hall. 

  
Evan was lounging on his bed, in green and blue plaid pants and a oversized grey shirt, the neck of which had been stretched out over time to the point that it nearly hung off his shoulder. He looked about half his actual age and Connor found himself marveling at just how different this version of Evan seemed than the one he had always seen around school, dodging out of peoples' way and making himself as small as possible.   
Evan lifted his head to peer at Connor in the doorway. He seemed to take him in for a moment before grinning. "They uh, they look good on you."   
Connor snorted, rolling his eyes. "I look like a fucking giraffe wearing toddlers clothes." He deadpanned.   
Evan laughed quietly. "I mean it's, um, they're a nice color for you." Connor quirked a brow at that. "Yeah, well they're a lot more comfortable than jeans, so thanks."

  
He turned towards the hall, gesturing over his shoulder. "I'll um..." he fumbled, not used to this sort of thing. "I'm gonna go back down stairs, so...g'night, I guess."  
Evan gave him a shy little smile and waved from the bed. "Good night, Connor."

**Author's Note:**

> Next chapter in the works!
> 
> Please leave comments! Even if it's just where you're from :p  
> Feedback is really helpful! Thanks!


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